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“MARIGOLD HAD STOPPED DANCING 


11 


MARIGOLD 

By EDITH FRANCIS FOSTER 

Author of “Mary ’n’ Mary,” “Jimmy Crow,” “ Puss in the 
Corner,” etc. 


ILLUSTRATED BY THE AUTHOR 



BOSTON A* DANA ESTES & 
COMPANY PUBLISHERS 



LIBRARY of CONGRESS 
Two CoDies Received 


JUL 7 1906 


Dyrfght EfUry . 

C Cy 



Copyright^ igo6 

By Dana Estes & Company 
All rights reserved 


MARIGOLD 



COLONIAL PRESS 

ElectrotyPed and Printed by C. H. Simonds <5r» Co. 
Boston f U. S. A. 







LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


“ Marigold had stopped dancing ” . Frontispiece 

“ Digging their dinners out of the sand ” . 47 v/ 

“ Marigold washed, and Jenny, rushing to and 

FRO, HAD HARD WORK TO KEEP UP WITH HER”. 73 - 

‘“Great Scott, Marigold, look at your shoes!’” 95 
Here came the arch offender, Rodney . -157 

” Rodney resting on one elbow, fed the fire 

WITH LITTLE CHIPS ” I9I , 

“ Let THEM PET AND SPOIL HIM TO THEIR HEARTS’ 

content” 207/ 

“She opened her little basket” .... 241 


% 


MARIGOLD 


CHAPTER I. 

" Mari - gold ! If you don’t stop dancing — 
on this rope — you’ll duck me, and I’ll be 
dro^-owned r' gasped Mary, breathless, but still 
laughing pluckily. 

“ No, you won’t,” Marigold called back, 
laughing too. ‘‘You will just turn into a mer- 
maid, with a long fish-tail to swim with, and nice 
shiny little fins for fingers ; and then you can 
swim right straight across to Spain, and never 
get tired at all! Wouldn’t that be nice?” 

But she had stopped “dancing” nevertheless, 
and while she talked she was coming back very 
carefully, hand over hand along the guard- 


12 


MARIGOLD 


rope, to where Mary clung, resting after her 
swim. 

Not for the world would she annoy or frighten 
Mary in the water. She had no wish either to 
drown her beloved “ twin ” or to make a mermaid 
of her. 

Never were two own sisters who loved each 
other better than did these adoptive twins, as the 
pair still persisted in calling themselves ; and it 
was very seldom indeed Marigold forgot for 
a moment that she was just a little the stronger 
of the two, and must be careful and considerate 
of her precious Mary. 

It was in their daily morning surf-bath that her 
stronger arms and deeper chest counted for most. 
Why, she could swim from the Square Rock right 
back to the bath-house steps without stopping, 
— so you can see she was a pretty good swimmer 
for a girl of eleven. 

Mary swam out to the rock and back every 
morning, too (for she always went everywhere 


MARIGOLD 


13 


and did everything Marigold did), but she had to 
stop once or twice to rest, holding by the rope 
which Papa Merington had had stretched and 
fastened securely between the bath-house plat- 
form and the rock when they first came to the 
seashore. He was not going to risk losing any of 
his twins, he said ; he hadn’t a twin too many. 

Besides the rope there was Andrews, the coach- 
man. While the little girls swam and splashed 
and frolicked in the splendid cold salt water like 
a pair of “ water-babies,” Andrews was always 
sitting on one particular rock by the bath-house, 
quietly smoking his pipe. He looked very peace- 
ful and idle ; but if you had seen the watchful 
eyes under his shading hat-brim you would have 
felt as sure as Papa Merington did that the twins 
were quite as safe as real water-babies could pos- 
sibly have been. 

And besides Andrews there was mamma. In 
her own private mind mamma was a little afraid 
of water and boats ; and though she trusted fully 


MARIGOLD 


H 

both in Andrews’s faithfulness and the children’s 
obedience, still, like most mothers, she felt just 
a little more comfortable when they were in her 
sight. So, as she also enjoyed seeing the fun 
of the water frolic, she usually came down with 
them, and sat on the rocks, ready to answer their 
jubilant shouts, and to receive and admire the wet, 
slippery treasures that were constantly brought to 
her lap. 

To-day, however, callers or something had 
kept her in the house, and the children were 
having their bath by themselves. 

Before Marigold had quite reached her side, 
Mary sprang away, hand over hand along the 
rope, and made as fast as she could for the Square 
Rock, shouting back a gleeful challenge: ‘‘You 
can’t catch me I ” 

It was one of their favorite games, this way of 
racing, and Mary’s agility often made her a match 
for Marigold’s greater strength and endurance. 
She reached the rock just barely ahead of her 


MARIGOLD 


15 


pursuer, scrambled up on it, panting, and rolled 
herself out of reach of being tagged. 

Marigold was close behind her, though, and in 
a moment they were sitting side by side in the 
sun, clasping their arms around their knees and 
looking quite like a pair of very small and 
young mermaids themselves, while they busily 
discussed the nature and habits of those fishy 
folk. 

It was their pet play, and they called it 
‘‘ s’posing.” 

S’pose you were a mermaid, which should you 
like best — to play down there in the deep shady 
places, where the crimson and amber and gold- 
brown seaweeds grow, hunting for pearls — and 
starfish — and all the lovely things ; or to stay up 
on top in the sunshine, and let the little waves 
dance you up and down ? 

They each chose differently, as they usually 
did. Mary would play in the sunshine among 
the foaming wave-crests, while Marigold longed 


i6 


MARIGOLD 


to explore the green and golden depths she was 
always peering into from the rocks. 

But on one point they were both perfectly 
agreed : that combing your hair with a golden 
comb, the way mermaids do in poetry, would be 
a very stupid way of spending time, and that they 
would waste as little on it as possible — just 
enough to be tidy, of course, but no more. 

S'pose you really were a mermaid, and could 
wear all the bracelets and necklaces and things 
you liked, which would you rather have, strings 
of amber or coral or pearl ? 

This was a difficult choice ; so difficult that 
they finally decided to allow two apiece, and 
Mary took the corals and pearls, and Marigold 
pearls and amber, — which was perfectly satisfac- 
tory to both. 

Then it was Marigold’s turn to s’pose again ; 
but at that moment Andrews, sitting on his rock 
by the bath-house, snapped the cover of his big 
silver watch, knocked the coals out of his pipe, 


MARIGOLD 


17 


and whistled a long, fluting call out across the 
rollers to the Square Rock, to tell the children 
their bath was done and it was time to come 
ashore. 

They came, after their own fashion, — first 
swimming a bit, then hanging from the guard- 
rope to let the rollers lift and swing them, and 
when their feet touched the sand jumping over 
each wave as it passed. 

At last they dashed up through the shoaling 
water, scattering a storm of glittering drops before 
them, in a wild race for the bath-house steps — 
and Andrews beat a hasty retreat to a higher and 
dryer spot. 

Next came another race, to get warm, the 
length of the pretty little crescent-shaped beach, 
shut in at either end by the cliffs. 

Their eclipse in the bath-house was a short 
one ; for time spent indoors was time thrown 
away, when the sun was shining and the breezes 
blowing as they shone and blew this morning. 


i8 


MARIGOLD 


Very soon indeed the little girls were out 
again, fully dressed, and sitting in a sun-warmed 
nook in the rocks, pouring the warm sand over 
hands and feet, when the white dress and sun- 
shade that always meant mamma came in sight 
on the cliff-path above them. 

Then there was an eager rush to meet her, — 
to show her the starfish with only four legs (or 
were they arms, mamma, which ?) and the very 
pinkest Irish moss you ever saw; and to consult 
her, both at once, as to whether mermaids, if 
there were any mermaids, would really have fins 
for fingers, or just real fingers with little shiny 
webs in between. 

Mamma considered the important question 
carefully. She rather inclined to the opinion that 
it would be webs, like a frog ; because frogs can 
swim so nicely and still can use their hands for 
other things besides. 

By this time they had reached the sunny nook 
again, where the warm yellow sand ran up like 


MARIGOLD 


19 


waves among the rocks at the foot of the cliff ; 
and the children fell to digging again, while 
mamma, comfortably ensconced under her sun- 
shade, began to read the handful of letters she 
had brought down with her. 

One by one they were cut, unfolded, read in 
silence, and laid aside ; but presently, “ Why, 
children,’’ exclaimed mamma, “ here is news for 
Mary ’n’ Mary ! 

This is from Aunt Adelaide, and she says 
they have decided to go to England, after all — 
she and the children — for three months. So 
they have let the country house and, if we like, 
they can come to us for a few weeks before they 
sail. We do like, don’t we, chickens ? ” 

Mary was delighted. Cousins’ visits were al- 
ways a wonderful event, for Aunt Adelaide lived 
in New York, so the children did not often see 
one another. Since the birthday party last sum- 
mer in Berket, when the twins, Elinor and Eliza- 
beth, and their brother Rodney first made the 


20 


MARIGOLD 


acquaintance of Mary Murray and her bossy, 
there had been only one short visit, at Christmas 
time ; and then the little New Yorkers had hardly 
had time to get used to the fact that Mary 
Murray was now Mary Golden Merington 
(Marigold for short), and “ really-truly-twin ** 
to the original Mary Merington. 

They all liked Marigold — who could help it? 
— but naturally they loved Mary best, while 
Marigold, on her side, felt hardly at home with 
them yet, and found it hard to realize that they 
were now her cousins as well as Mary^s. 

However, anything that gave Mary pleasure 
pleased her also ; and then, every child likes to 
have things happen, no matter what. So Mary 
’n* Mary joyfully abandoned their sand-piles and 
began to make a hundred delightful plans for the 
entertainment of their guests. 

Every hour of the visit was quickly filled two or 
three times over in advance, in their joyous chat- 
ter of picnics and drives, pine woods and rocky 


MARIGOLD 


21 


pastures, the cliffs and the bathing-beach — for 
the house the Merington family had taken for 
the summer stood in one of the loveliest places 
on the New England coast, with both sand beach 
and cliffs before it, and endless woods and hills 
and country roads behind ; so the children’s only 
difficulty was to choose in which of all the beau- 
tiful places to spend their days. 

They were still busy with the pleasant problem 
as they escorted mamma up the steep cliff-path ; 
and mamma listened and laughed with them, put- 
ting in a suggestion now and then, but let them 
plan it all as they liked, only ready to lend her 
help when needed. 

Children know best what children like, she 
thought ; and it pleased her to hear them care- 
fully considering Elinor’s special tastes and Rod- 
ney’s possible preferences. 

They did not seem to need much help, so far. 


CHAPTER II. 


They returned again to the absorbing topic 
that afternoon, as they followed the narrow path 
winding among the bayberry clumps and low, 
ragged cedars of the shore-pastures, on their way 
to the Cove. 

It would certainly have been a shorter walk 
for them to go by the road ; but why shorten it, 
when they loved every warm, spicy breath of the 
bayberries, and every cold, salty puff of breeze 
from the blue afternoon sea, where the white 
gulls wheeled and flashed ? Each step was a 
pleasure ; so the more steps the better. 

“Yes, we can take them this way when we go 
to the post-office,” Marigold was saying. “ I 
am so glad they never were here before, so we 


MARIGOLD 


23 


can show them everything new. Won’t they 
love it all I ” 

Yes,” said Mary, “ they must love it, it is so 
beautiful everywhere. At least Elinor and Eliza- 
beth will. I s’pose they’ll like it better than 
Rod.” 

“ But why shouldn’t he ? ” asked Marigold, 
surprised. “ 1 should think this was just a 
splendid place for a boy, there are so many 
things to do.” 

“Well — but — ” Mary was trying to think 
it out while she spoke : her idea was rather in- 
definite. 

“ 1 don’t believe boys like just the doing things 
so much as they like doing them with the other 
boys. 

“ Rod will have us girls to take walks with or 
go in bathing, but that isn’t the same thing. 
He’d rather have some one as big and strong as 
he is himself, who could do just as much, to 
make it real fun for him. 


24 


MARIGOLD 


“ Now girls like doing things anyway, if they 
are pleasant things. If one of us were here all 
alone, without the other one without the 
other one ” was “ all alone ” to Mary ’n’ Mary), 
“she could have pretty good times just play- 
ing around in these lovely places — finding cosy 
little cubby-holes to sit in and read, and look at 
the water, and finding pretty things to carry 
home, and making playhouses. Why, you could 
be having fun every minute! 

“ But I don’t think boys are like that ; and 
there are no boys as big as Rod nearer than the 
village — unless maybe at the new hotel.” 

“No — nobody he’d care to play with,” Mari- 
gold assented, soberly. 

Her own experience of the boys in McGow- 
an’s Lane convinced her that Mary’s instinct 
was right, — but she was a little sorry. 

Privately, Marigold liked Rodney best of all 
the New York family of Meringtons. He was 
more like herself, plain and simple. He didn’t 


MARIGOLD 


25 


talk about clothes, and dancing-school, and par- 
ties, and all sorts of things which she cared little 
about. 

Rod didn't talk much anyway, but he seemed 
to like very much the same kind of outdoor 
things that she did ; and Marigold gave a small 
sigh as she wondered why he could not do those 
things with her just as well as with the missing 
‘‘ other boy." 

They had come down from the high sea-pas- 
tures now, crossed the rickety “ Old Bridge," 
over the mouth of the little tide-river, and were 
following the shore-road, made by the fish 
carts, around to the cove village where all the 
fishermen’s houses were. 

Their errand was to one of these, — a mes- 
sage about some work from mamma to Mrs. 
Starrett, — Mrs. Amos Starrett, not the other 
one, — which of course Andrews could have 
taken just as well, but that the children were 
always glad of any reason for taking that walk. 


26 


MARIGOLD 


Marigold, indeed, had a special reason for 
liking it, apart from the beauty of the shore- 
path ; for the row of straggling, untidy cottages, 
with their broken fences and fluttering clothes- 
lines, and the perpetual crowd of dirty, jolly 
youngsters about them, were very much like 
McGowan’s Lane ; and until just ten months 
ago, you know, McGowan’s Lane had been home 
to Marigold. 

You could not say, exactly, that she was home- 
sick, or that she would have wished to go back 
and be Mary Murray again. She loved her 
new home, and loved Papa and Mamma Mer- 
ington and Mary too dearly for that; and yet, 
to go to the Cove, and to fancy herself for a little 
while in the old familiar places, gave her an odd 
little painful pleasure that she had never tried to 
express, even to her other half, Mary Mering- 
ton. It was the kind of thing that Marigold 
did not talk about, — things that made her feel 
bad. 


MARIGOLD 


27 


For the same reason she had said nothing of 
her disappointment, when it had been decided to 
spend this first summer of her Merington life at 
the seashore instead of returning to South Ber- 
ket, where she had been Mary Murray. 

Between ourselves, I suspect that she herself 
was one of the reasons which had decided the 
change of plan. 

I think Papa and Mamma Merington felt it 
would be wise to keep her away from the old 
places and associations until she had grown quite 
used to being Marigold Merington. To be so 
near her old home and yet separated from it 
might make her unsettled if not unhappy ; while 
here at the shore everything was new and inter- 
esting, and kept her thought^ away from herself. 

Still, mamma's loving watchfulness had not 
failed to note the occasional shadow on Mari- 
gold's frank and honest little face ; and many a 
pleasant little plan, — a game, a story, an unex- 
pected outing, — whose purpose the children 


28 


MARIGOLD 


never suspected, had chased away that shadow 
and brought back Marigold’s own bright look of 
interest and pleasure. 

If the shadow could have been banished for 
good and all, so soon as this, Marigold would 
not have been the loyal, loving child she was ; 
but she was also a buoyant, cheerful little person, 
and the disappointment had not wholly destroyed 
her anticipations of the first visit to the old 
home. It would come sometime, if not just 
yet. 

Often she fell asleep at night in the middle of 
a pleasant vision of running up the familiar path 
to the back door and bursting into Mother 
Murray’s clean-scrubbed, soapy-smelling little 
kitchen without any warning, astonishing them 
all. 

She would bring presents for them all, of 
course, — and what wonderful stories she would 
have to tell the boys, and all the children in the 
lane 1 


MARIGOLD 


29 


In these plans twin Mary shared with affec- 
tionate sympathy, and her advice and sugges- 
tions in respect to the choice of presents were 
most helpful. They had written and revised 
the list many times, and as it stood at present it 
promised to empty both little purses, and both 
the gilded iron banks as well. 

So, little by little. Marigold was learning to 
think of McGowan’s Lane without a tug at her 
heart; and until the time should come for the 
hoped-for visit she could cheerfully make an 
occasional errand to Mrs. Amos Starrett at the 
Cove do instead. 

There were a lot of children in the Starrett 
house, — as many as there used to be in the 
Donovan and Ready houses at home, — and they 
were of all sizes, from about the age of Mary 
and Marigold down to almost no size at all. 

Really, I couldn’t say, without counting, just 
how many there were. 

They were scattered all about the place as the 


30 


MARIGOLD 


little girls came up. Jennie, the oldest girl, was 
sitting idly on the door-step, doing nothing at 
all, her elbows on her knees. 

Inside the house one of the no-size ones was 
crying dismally, in a tired, monotonous wail, as 
if he had been crying for a long time ; and the 
mother's voice was tired and fretful, too, as she 
called to Jennie to “ For mercy's sake come and 
take this child so's't I can get these dishes 
washed sometime to-day! " 

But Jennie made no move to obey. “ In a 
minute," she drawled, in a reluctant, grudging 
tone, and then bent down to tie up her dangling 
boot-laces, apparently for the sole purpose of 
putting off the disagreeable duty as long as she 
could. 

Mary Merington's soft gray eyes opened wide 
in grave surprise. Never in her sweet little life 
had she failed to respond with quick and willing 
obedience to her mother's call. 

.Marigold’s record was probably not so per- 


MARIGOLD 


31 


feet, but her disapproval was quite as strong as 
Mary’s, though it arose from a different source 

— the little-mother instinct which had been fos- 
tered by her care for her baby stepbrother, little 
Joe. 

The look her brown eyes flashed at the lazy 
figure on the steps made Jennie wriggle uneasily, 
as Marigold stepped quickly past her into the 
hot frowzy kitchen. 

‘‘ Oh, please may I take him, Mrs. Starrett? 

— Excuse me, good afternoon ! — May I hold 
him if he will come to me ? Come to Marigold, 
baby. There, there, now him’s all right, isn’t 
him ? ” 

Mrs. Starrett looked on in mild surprise. The 
little girl in the fine frock had her baby right end 
up and right side to, quite as though she under- 
stood the art of baby-tending as well as Mrs. 
Starrett herself ; and the poor, tired little fellow 
hushed his wailing to stare at his new nurse. 

By the time he had decided there was nothing 


32 


MARIGOLD 


to object to in her appearance he had forgotten 
to cry, and he began to fix his attention on the 
mass of lustrous copper-brown curls that tum- 
bled over her shoulders. Presently a feeble, 
fumbling little hand was stretched .out to grasp 
at them. Next appeared an uncertain, toothless 
smile, and the baby was won. 

Marigold cooed and chirped at him, and 
shook him up and smoothed him down again, 
giving her whole heart to the joy of hugging a 
baby once more ; while Mary delivered her 
mother’s message to Mrs. Starrett. 

The poor woman was glad enough to get the 
chance to earn an extra dollar (in fact that was 
one reason Mamma Merington tried so hard to 
find occasions for hiring extra help), but it was 
doubtful if she heard more than half the message, 
she was so pleased and relieved by Marigold’s 
success in soothing the ailing child. 

‘‘ Well, ain’t it a wonder how he takes to you ! ” 
she said. “Yes, tell your mother I’ll come, and 


MARIGOLD 


33 


be glad to, any time. He generally screams at 
the sight of a stranger. I guess you like babies, 
don’t you ^ ” 

“ Oh, yeSy ma’am ! ” Marigold answered, with 
such heartfelt fervor, and such an enthusiastic 
squeeze of the grimy little bundle she held, that 
Mary looked at her with astonishment. 

It was no wonder Mary had nearly forgotten 
Baby Joe. She had played with him, to be sure, 
through many summer afternoons at South Ber- 
ket, but she had not gone through his teething 
with him, and tended him by day and night, as 
little-mother Marigold had done. 

The other little Starretts had left their play, of 
course, at sight of the visitors, and were peeping 
in at door and window, ready to dodge, with 
bashful grins, if one looked their way. Jennie 
had come in, and lounged against the door, staring 
in wonder at the girl who loved babies. 

Mary was doing her gentle best to make ac- 
quaintance with them all, but they were too shy 


34 


MARIGOLD 


of her to get on very fast — she was too differ- 
ent ; they had never been so near to real “ sum- 
mer folks ” before. 

You could not have guessed from their stolid, 
almost stupid, looks that they were drinking in 
all the prettiness and daintiness of her with real 
delight; but they were, — though they would say 
little but yes ” and “ no.” 

As for Marigold, she was still too indignant 
with the undutiful Jennie to have anything to say 
to heVy but she couldn't help being bright and 
friendly with the rest ; she was always a sociable 
Iktle soul. 

But when she rose to go, she dumped the baby 
in the most matter-of-course way into Jennie's 
arms, without interrupting herself in what she was 
saying to their mother. And Jennie and the 
baby, recognizing a master spirit, both submitted 
without a murmur to the transfer. 

Well out on the shore-road, beyond hearing. 
Marigold very emphatically expressed her opin- 


MARIGOLD 


35 


ion of a great girl like that who would let a baby 
cry himself into fits before she'd stir! 

Mary agreed, in her milder way. 

It might have softened their judgment a little 
if they had known that at that moment lazy 
Jennie was sitting in the chair Marigold had left, 
trying to shake her tangled, sunburnt locks at 
the baby as she had seen Marigold shake her 
curls. 

The baby was not wholly satisfied, but he 
consented to accept the substitute, and there was 
unusual peace in the frowzy kitchen, while the 
mother got the dishes washed at last. 

The visit of Mary and Marigold was a won- 
derful event to all the Starrett children, and two 
more of them came in — one through the door 
and the other through the window — to talk it 
over. 

‘‘ Wasn't the one with the long curls just 
lovely ! " said Beulah. She looks just like the 
fairy princess in my library book." 


36 


MARIGOLD 


“ No, sir, Marigold’s the handsomest!” Jen- 
nie declared, jealously. “ She looks — well, like 
a queen, that ain’t grown up yet 1 ” 


CHAPTER III. 

They came, the cousins and Aunt Adelaide, 
on the morning train, drove two rniles from the 
nearest railway station, and were met at the steps 
of the big, rambling cottage ’’ on the cliffs by 
dear Mamma Merington and “ Mary 'n’ Mary,** 
these last two fairly dancing in the eagerness of 
their welcome. 

The good times began on the instant. The 
younger visitors were hardly allowed to enter the 
house before they were escorted out across lawn 
and pasture and granite ledges to the brink of 
the cliffs, and thence down the steep zigzag path 
to the little half-moon beach. 

An hour later they were gathered up by a 

reproachful maid and hurried home, late to lunch, 
37 


38 MARIGOLD 

with wet shoes and frocks, and hands filled with 
treasure of seaweed, shells, and pebbles. 

As soon as luncheon was over they were off 
again, — this time on a regular expedition, with 
baskets, to Ship Head, which thrust out its 
splendid heights into the ocean about half a mile 
away to the north. 

Still farther out, beyond its last sheer face, ran a 
wilderness of mingled boulders and ledges, heaped 
and tumbled in a delightful chaos. When the 
tide was high they were nearly all covered ; but 
from low to half tide there were acres of the most 
fascinating play-places you ever dreamed of, — 
clear, deep pools, where crabs and squids and 
starfish lurked waiting for the next tide to set 
them free ; lovely under-water gardens of the 
olive and amber and golden seaweed ; warm, 
smooth slopes of ledge where you could lie flat 
in the sunshine, peeping over the edge to 
watch the white foam swirling back and forth 
below. 


MARIGOLD 


39 


Oh, the joys of Ship Head were inexhaustible, 
and if the children had spent all their days there 
for a year I doubt if they would have wearied of 
the place. 

The little baskets were an indispensable part of 
an expedition like this. Long before the happy, 
tired party returned, they had been emptied 
of sandwiches and cookies and filled to overflow- 
ing with the usual collections of what the children 
called “ treasures, ’’ and the long-suflfering maids 
at home, “ rubbish.” 

After dinner they were obliged to content 
themselves on the piazza ; for the two mothers 
decreed that there had been enough fatigue and 
excitement for one day. 

The four girls were snuggled together in a 
bunch among the cushions of a big rattan settee. 
Rodney was sitting astride the hammock, invent- 
ing new ways of falling out of it. They were all 
in that comfortable stage of tiredness when one 
is not yet quite ready for bed, and talking quietly. 


40 


MARIGOLD 


by fits and starts, of what they were going to do 
on the morrow. 

Presently Rod leaned back and stretched his 
arms above his head luxuriously (at the imminent 
risk of inventing a new way of breaking his 
neck). 

My, but this is a jolly place ! ” he said. 
“ Lots better than where we were last year. 
I wish we were going to stay here all summer.*' 

Mary and Marigold beamed at him, highly 
gratified ; but Elinor spoke quickly, in her 
“ Aunt Adelaide ** tone of voice. 

“ Why, Rodney ! Don't you want to go to 
see Cousin Alan and all the rest ? " 

“Well, I'm not so awfully keen on it, don't 
you know," drawled Young America, unabashed ; 
and his sisters' giggles acknowledged his mim- 
icry was good, even while their shocked “ Rod — 
hush ! " rose in unison. 

“Well, I ain’t!" he insisted, dropping back 
into the American language. “ I've been over 


MARIGOLD 41 

there once, and I don’t remember that I had 
such a tremendously good time. I think it 
would be more fun here.” 

Mary and Marigold exchanged a quick look 
of surprise and pleasure. Perhaps Mary had 
been wrong about boys. 

If only there were a few other fellows around 
here — ” he added, reflectively ; and the little 
girls exchanged another smile, — a rueful one, 
this time. Apparently Mary had been right 
about boys, after all. 

In the days that followed, however. Rod did 
not seem to feel the lack of ‘‘ other fellows ” very 
much. He climbed Round Hill, and explored 
the pine woods and the sea-pastures with the 
girls, and borrowed Hosea Starrett’s punt to 
paddle himself around the cove, and in general 
seemed to enjoy “ doing things ” fully as much 
as his sisters and cousins did. So perhaps Mary 
was wrong about boys, — the children hoped 
again. 


42 


MARIGOLD 


And yet before the end of a week, by means 
of that mysterious freemasonry of the boy-world, 
which no one but a boy can understand. Rod 
had contrived to pick up an acquaintance with 
more “ fellows than the girls had supposed 
were in the place, — boys of his own age, and 
some that were considerably older, from the 
summer cottages scattered along the shore and 
the hotels on Long Beach. 

Perhaps these acquaintances began at the post- 
office. That was where everybody met every- 
body, and Rod had promptly assumed the duties 
of postman, making two trips to the village 
daily on a rented bicycle ; for this was such a 
delightfully quiet place there was not even a 
rural ” mail-carrier yet, despite all the cottages 
and summer boarders. 

Not that these complained — on the contrary, 
“going to the mail” was, as it is apt to be in 
such places, the pleasantest and most important 
social event of the day. 


MARIGOLD 


43 


The morning mail was not so important, but 
at five o’clock, when the stage came back from 
the depot, bringing the mail-bags, and the new 
arrivals, you could be sure of meeting almost 
any one you wished to see, sauntering down the 
shady street, or standing chatting in groups in 
the grocery store, which was also, of course, the 
post-office. And while you waited for the mail 
to be sorted you could explore the show-case 
for hairpins, or ribbon, or sewing-silk, or buy 
little gay-striped bags of the delightful old-fash- 
ioned candy one never finds at home nowadays. 

The little girls liked this errand, too ; and 
occasionally they met Rodney there, and all 
walked home together around by the shore-path. 

When he was engaged with those other boys, 
and paid no attention to them, Mary and Mari- 
gold would feel a little slighted, but his sisters 
took it very easily. Rod’s society was not an 
entertaining novelty to them, and they accepted 
or did without it with equal coolness. 


44 


MARIGOLD 


But even Elinor and Elizabeth were displeased 
the day they planned a picnic up Bourne’s Brook, 
and found at the last minute that Rodney was 
engaged for some expedition with a set of boys 
he was getting very intimate with, at the big new 
hotel. 

It was disappointing to them all to go without 
him ; but they did, and enjoyed their scrambling 
explorations up the riotous little brook through 
the rocky woods. 

And they had their revenge when, at night, 
they met the late-returning deserter with the 
exciting news that they had seen a mink! — a 
real, live mink, — they met Mr. Bourne, and 
told him, and he said it was, — among the rocks 
of the upper stream ; and had traced his foot- 
prints on the bank, and ^‘almost found his 
hole, just think ! ” as Mary earnestly assured 
him. 

Rodney was disgusted. It is not every day 
— or every summer — a fellow has the luck to 


MARIGOLD 


45 


see a mink : it would really have been something 
to brag about at school ; and it did seem hard 
that such a chance should have fallen to just 
girls 1 

Still, he had had a pretty good time himself 
that day, out sailing with Renshaw and Cheney 
and the rest. Rod loved the water, — as what 
boy does not? — and his only chance for sailing 
was by such invitations, for there was no boat on 
the little half-moon beach which belonged to the 
Merington’s cottage. 

Rod understood in a general way that this was 
because Aunt May didn’t like boats — she was 
“ nervous ” about them ; but he saw no reason 
why that fact should interfere with his enjoy- 
ment, since he certainly was not nervous ; and 
no one had said anything to him about not going 
out. 

So it gradually came about that a good share 
of his time was spent either in the fishermen’s 
dories or in Renshaw’s little yacht, in which that 


46 MARIGOLD 

young gentleman amused himself by taking an 
amateur’s crazy risks. 

Rodney himself knew more about a sailboat 
than Renshaw seemed to ; perhaps that was one 
reason why those older fellows liked to have the 
younger boy with them so often. 

However, the next time a family excursion 
was planned Rod showed no intention of being 
counted out. Maybe he thought the perverse 
luck which had bestowed a mink upon just girls 
would produce a sea-serpent for their benefit this 
time — for the picnic was to be a grand clambake 
up at North Beach, where there were no hotels 
or cottages, and you could have all the fun you 
liked without any one to see. 

There were just two carriages full ; for they 
had waited till papa could run up from the city 
for a short holiday. It happened to be an un- 
usually busy summer for him, and he could not 
spare much time away from his business. 

North Beach was lovely and lonely as ever, 



“DIGGING THEIR DINNERS OUT OF THE SAND 


7) 



. /•*- ^ •’ i. ♦ • ' ?w ^ . * 



" * -■ ■ -* •’•■ i' 



1 .. ' ■■>-''^ ‘ > ■■\^, 

bv-' . .J 





MARIGOLD 


47 


and the falling tide had just uncovered the level, 
ripple-marked sand of the clam-flats below the 
slope of the beach. 

In a moment the children’s shoes were off, and 
then how all the bare feet twinkled in a grand race 
up the beach and back before the serious business 
of the clam-digging began. 

That was the young folk’s business. Papa 
had announced at the outset that he was “ com- 
pany ” and mustn’t do any work. So he estab- 
lished himself very comfortably on the dry sand 
under mamma’s umbrella, and amused himself by 
watching the antics of the diggers ; for the little 
New Yorkers, whose only experiences of shore 
life had been at a big hotel, were finding the 
process of digging their own dinners out of the 
earth equally new and exciting. 

Elinor screamed regularly each time the clam 
she was pursuing sent up a sudden jet of clear 
sea-water through the sand like a tiny fountain ; 
and Elizabeth, who had chosen to help Rod, 


48 


MARIGOLD 


bothered him dreadfully by insisting on plunging 
both hands into the hole, as soon as she heard 
his hoe scrape the shell, and carefully extracting 
the clam by twisting and pulling, so as not to 
break it. 

Thus handicapped. Rod was getting badly 
beaten by Andrews, whom he was racing to fill 
his basket first, and he naturally failed to see the 
superiority which Elizabeth pointed out in hand- 
picked clams. 

When his patience was at an end he would 
chase her a little way up the beach with his hoe, 
generally returning only a few inches ahead of his 
persistent assistant. 

Mary and Marigold were, as usual, in partner- 
ship, digging quietly and busily side by side, 
their clams piled in a single heap between them. 
The heap grew steadily but not very fast, for 
their tools were only the big empty sea-clam 
shells, thrown up on the beach by last winter's 


storms. 


MARIGOLD 49 

So if Andrews had not worked faster than the 
girls and more steadily than the boy, dinner 
would have been considerably later than would 
have suited hungry picnickers. 

But clams were not the whole of it — bless 
you, no indeed ! This picnic was of the sort 
that ‘‘grown-ups” like, — comfortable as well as 
festive. 

Mamma Merington had planned it to please 
papa and Aunt Adelaide, rather than the young 
gipsies, who would have been pleased with any- 
thing or everything, so only it were eaten out-of- 
doors. 

So there were comfortable seats and cushions, 
and umbrellas for shade and books for amuse- 
ment, and a beautiful luncheon, with plates and 
knives and forks, and so many nice things to eat 
with no sand in them, that it would hardly have 
mattered if the clams had been left out altogether. 

Aunt Adelaide was pleased. She declared it 
was the best picnic she had ever had, and as they 


50 


MARIGOLD 


all sat or lay in the warm, sunny sand after 
dinner she was in such a serene, indulgent humor 
that it seemed to Rodney a good opportunity to 
broach a plan which he had been thinking over 
for several days. 


CHAPTER IV. 


Rod*s plan took them all by surprise, and half 
of them were pleased, and half were not ; for it 
was simply that his mother and sisters should go 
to England without him, leaving him to finish the 
summer here, where he was enjoying himself so 
well, in charge of Mamma Merington. 

H is mother and sisters were the not-pleased 
ones. Elinor and Elizabeth naturally thought it 
too bad of him. to desert them in this abrupt 
fashion ; while Aunt Adelaide, like many people 
when they are taken by surprise, began at once to 
think of all the objections to the idea. 

But Rodney was prepared for that, — he had 
thought of most of them himself beforehand, and. 
had his answers ready. 

He met the argument that it would bother his 
SI 


52 


MARIGOLD 


Aunt May by appealing directly to that lady 
herself, with his most wheedling smile (and Rod 
could be very wheedling when he chose). 

His aunt laughed at his blandishments, but she 
patted the curly head on the rug beside her very 
affectionately as she assured Aunt Adelaide that 
it was true she was not much used to boys, but 
this would be a splendid opportunity to get used 
to one. 

His passage was already taken with the others 
— but they could easily wire and give it up. 

The English relatives of Aunt Adelaide whom 
they were to visit would not be apt to miss him 
very much, for it happened there were no cousins 
very near his age. 

But his strongest argument, and the one to 
which his mother finally yielded, was that if he 
stayed, he would be ’ready to go into school when 
it opened, without losing half the first term, — as 
would be necessary if he went abroad, — and this 
would please his father. 


MARIGOLD 


53 


Aunt Adelaide had to admit that he was prob- 
ably right as to this. His father had objected to 
his losing so much time, while on the other hand 
she did not wish to come home so early in the 
fall as would be needful to prevent it. 

Rodney's proposal would certainly settle that 
difficulty ; and after a little more discussion she 
consented that he should write to his father for 
permission to stay. 

Mary and Marigold had had little to say 
during the discussion ; but they had telegraphed 
a great deal to each other, with joyful smiles and 
triumphant nods. At last here was solid proof 
that Mary was wrong about boys — and Mary was 
quite as pleased as Marigold, to be proved wrong. 

There was never a bit of the “ I told you so ” 
feeling in her gentle little heart. 

And really, just think ! To have a boy, — and 
a nice big one, too, — in the house all summer, — 
wouldn’t it make life seem more interesting to 
you — if you were not much used to boys? 


54 


MARIGOLD 


And Marigold was pleased because she was 
used to boys, and rather missed having them 
about. Also, she liked this one. 

So, when at the end of the talk Rodney sat up 
to shake the sand out of his hair, he met two 
pretty pairs of childish eyes resting on him with 
a sparkle of delight in them which surprised him. 
He had made his plans without giving much 
thought to the little cousins ; and he certainly 
had not expected any one would be so very glad 
to have him stay. 

It pleased and touched him, too, that the twin 
Marys (as they were still often called) should 
look so happy about it ; and his way of saying 
so was by a certain queer little quirk at one corner 
of his mouth, which was not quite a smile, but 
brought out the dimple just below it of which he 
was so ashamed. 

That little quirk meant a good deal, when you 
knew Rod well enough to understand it. 

Mary and Marigold accepted it as a promise 


MARIGOLD 


55 


of friendly comradeship, and of good times to 
come. All their pleasant planning began anew, 
for all sorts of splendid doings seemed possible 
with Rod there to help. 

They could go up the mountain — a trip long 
planned and as long postponed. They could 
engineer that new, and vastly superior, route 
down the cliff, in which Andrews refused to take 
any interest, on the double grounds that the 
present path was good enough, and that there 
was no use in lugging rocks where there was 
more’n enough rock already. 

They couldn’t help letting some of these fine 
ideas bubble over now, and there was more or 
less talk about them during the drive home. 

Naturally, Rodney took more interest than his 
sisters, and Mary and Marigold were careful to 
keep their jubilations within bounds, in consider- 
ation for the sisters’ feelings ; but in fact Elinor 
and Elizabeth felt their loss much less than the 
others did their gain. 


56 


MARIGOLD 


They were not bad sisters ; they were fond of 
Rod, and were vexed and sorry that he was not 
going with them ; but they were so used to him 
— it couldn’t matter so much to them as to Mary 
and Marigold. Besides, they had long ago learned 
that the first duty of sisters is to let a fellow 
alone and not bother. 

When the party reached home they found 
some one awaiting them, — a little figure that 
rose from the piazza steps and stood bashfully 
digging her toe into the gravel, with a funny 
mixture of shyness and boldness. 

It was Jennie Starrett. She had brought a 
message from her mother, and finding the family 
away, had declined to give it to the servants, but 
insisted on waiting for Mrs. Merington to return. 
And there she had been sitting, silent and deter- 
mined, on the steps, for the last half-hour. 

Her secret hope was to catch a glimpse, how- 
ever brief or distant, of Mary and Marigold. If 
by good luck she should both see and speak to 


MARIGOLD 


57 


them, it would be a bright day for Jennie — and 
a fine story to take home to Beulah and Lottie ! 

And the good luck really did happen — her 
wishes all came true, and more ; for as soon as 
the children recognized her they both came to 
meet her with cordial friendliness, and not only 
introduced her to their mother, but to the other 
strange children also — even presented her 
proudly, as the girl who rowed all the way from 
the Cove around to the village, and who knew 
how to sail a dory. (Her domestic qualities 
were not mentioned.) 

Jennie was somewhat embarrassed by so much 
attention, and the boldness was quite lost in the 
bashfulness. She would hardly speak at all, 
until mamma came to the rescue and gently 
drew her out of the chattering circle. 

Then she managed to tell her errand, — that 
her mother could not come to work to-morrow, 
as promised, because the baby was sick. 

The mention of the baby brought Marigold 


58 MARIGOLD 

over to them, interested and anxious, all the 
“ little mother ” in her uppermost. How sick 
was he ? What was the matter ? Poor, dear 
little fellow, how too bad ! 

Like many other people in the world, Jennie 
was overwhelmed by the fulfilment of her wishes, 
and her only anxiety now was to get away. But 
Mamma Merington’s kindness and the charm 
of her voice and smile helped her out, and when 
mamma had promised to send some nice things 
to-morrow that would be good for the baby, and 
Marigold had walked with her to the gate, her 
spirits were quite high again, and she hurried 
home triumphant, to tell her tale to the admir- 
ing and envious little sisters. 

But Marigold returned slowly from the gate, 
deep in thought. 

It was not alone her interest in the baby that 
had made her wish to show Jennie all the kind- 
ness possible. It was partly a feeling of cham- 
pionship, — for she perceived that the New York 


MARIGOLD 


59 


cousins took little interest in the Starretts’ mis- 
fortunes, — and partly also a dim confused sense 
that she herself owed something to Jennie. 

“ She is just the same as I was a year ago,” she 
was thinking as she came slowly back to the 
house. “ Jennie is just like Mary Murray. But 
now / am so happy, — I have all these beautiful 
things, and they all love me so, — and she hasn’t 
anything more or different from what she has 
always had. I’ve got more than my share, and 
I ought to make it up to Jennie somehow, for it 
isn’t fair ! ” 

Marigold was not quite fair to herself in this. 
Mary Murray was not just like Jennie Starrett, 
and it was just because she was not that her hap- 
piness had come to her. 

The little house and the big family, the poor 
clothes and the plain living had been very much 
the same ; but it was the different quality in 
Mary Murray herself which had made the Mer- 
ingtons love her, and wish to have her for their 


6o 


MARIGOLD 


own, even before they learned who she really 
was. 

But, clear-headed as she was in general. Mari- 
gold did not see this. 

When she rejoined the other children on the 
piazza, she found them still absorbed in Rod- 
ney’s change of plans, Elinor and Elizabeth 
grumbling at his choice, and Mary divided be- 
tween her impulse to rejoice at his preference, 
and her care not to hurt the twins’ feelings. 

It was hardly to be wondered at if Rodney 
rather enjoyed feeling himself the centre of inter- 
est, and was inclined to prolong his agreeable 
sense of importance by teasing his sisters and 
laughing, gently and affectionately, at Mary’s 
■ quandary. 

He did not notice that Marigold was a little 
quiet, for her, and had less to say than usual. 
But presently, after a little pause, in which her 
eyes had been bent thoughtfully on the rug at 
her feet, she raised her head with the air of being 


MARIGOLD 


6l 


Struck by a sudden thought, and he turned to- 
ward her, expectantly. 

“Only s'pose it should be the measles, — or 
the whooping-cough ! ** said Marigold. 

You can’t blame Rod for feeling disgusted. 
His self-complacence was badly damaged, and it 
was not easy to recover at once. Girls are queer ! 

What was worse, the others also forgot him 
and his affairs instantly, for this aspect of the 
baby’s illness had a direct personal interest for 
them ; and Marigold could no longer feel that 
Elinor and Elizabeth showed too little concern 
for the Starretts and their affairs. Had not the 
baby’s sister been right among them^ talking 
with them? 

They rushed to the mothers, with anxious 
questions as to whether the baby could possibly 
have anything catching. The chance of having 
to put off their journey, or of being quarantined 
on shipboard, was not pleasant, and already they 
felt indignant with the whole Starrett family. 


62 


MARIGOLD 


Mamma soon reassured them, and soothed 
their ruffled minds. There was nothing catch- 
ing about it, — the baby was not very ill, and 
would be all right in a day or two, she hoped. 
So the alarm subsided as quickly as it had arisen ; 
but after so complete a diversion they naturally 
did not return to the previous subject of interest, 
and Rod had something of the sensations of a 
king dethroned, — or rather of a President who 
fails of reelection, — and he carried off his dis- 
comfiture as I imagine the king and President 
do theirs — put his hands in his pockets and 
whistled. 


CHAPTER V. 


Next morning the children all started together 
to walk to the post-office 

It was Elinor’s turn to be postman, and carry 
the pretty mail-pouch of Mexican cut leather; 
and of course the other three girls escorted her ; 
while Rod’s bicycle having broken down, as 
rented wheels have a way of doing, he had noth- 
ing better to do than to walk with them. 

When all the rest were ready to start. Mari- 
gold was missing, and had to be waited for. 

At last she came, carrying on her arm a little 
basket, which made Mary think of last summer 
and the poultry business.” 

It was not three brown eggs the basket held 

to-day, however ; it was the promised nice things 
63 


64 


MARIGOLD 


for the Starrett baby, which Marigold had begged 
permission to carry to him herself. 

She was still feeling as she had felt the night 
before, that something, she hardly knew what, 
was not fair to Jennie Starrett, and that she her- 
self had more than her rightful share of happi- 
ness, and therefore owed something to Jennie to 
make things even. 

It was a relief to this feeling to do something 
for the Starretts, even if it were only carrying a 
little basket which Andrews could have taken 
just as well. 

Elinor thought Andrews might better have 
taken it, and made the suggestion promptly. The 
errand would take them out of their way, and 
the walk through the Cove village was not pretty. 

For a moment Marigold felt impolite. Some- 
how it was impossible to like Elinor as well as 
Elizabeth. You may remember that ‘‘in the 
Lot” in McGowan’s Lane Marigold had been 
considered “ bossy.” Elinor had a little of the 


MARIGOLD 


65 


same characteristic, and when two people are 
both like that they rarely love each other very 
much. 

Marigold was tempted to insist upon her 
point; but a glance at Mary’s troubled eyebrows 
helped her to restrain herself. She proposed a 
compromise. 

“ There’s no need for all of us to stop there. 
The rest of you can go right on and leave me at 
the bridge, and I’ll go to Mrs. Starrett’s, and 
walk on up the shore-path and meet you coming 
back.” 

They settled it so, — though Mary was not 
well pleased at leaving Marigold behind, alone ; 
but since Elinor and Marigold were both content 
with that arrangement, it seemed the best thing 
to do. 

So at the old bridge the party divided, the 
others following the foot-path out around the 
headland toward the village, while Marigold, 
basket in hand, picked her way along the stony 


66 


MARIGOLD 


cart-road, past the evil-smelling fish-houses to 
the cottages beyond. 

Her face was a little sober as she went. It 
was not quite pleasant to be left alone that way, 
and certainly it did not seem quite kind of 
Elinor to be unwilling to wait for her. 

In fact it seemed to her that the visit of these 
cousins was interfering a good deal with that 
dear and close companionship with her twin 
Mary, which had’ grown so necessary to them 
both in the year they had lived together. 

However, her cheerful and independent spirit 
could not stay cast down long; presently her 
little chin was as high as usual, and her chestnut- 
brown eyes wandering in quest of interest. 

When they alighted on the little cluster of 
fishermen’s houses, huddling close together and 
turning their backs to all the great, glorious out- 
of-doors around them, she laughed to herself as 
it struck her suddenly how like they were to the 
groups of neighbors she had so often seen in 


MARIGOLD 


67 


McGowan^s Lane, leaning over a gate or stand- 
ing around the butcher’s cart, their heads close 
together for a good gossip. 

She passed Lemuel Starrett’s house, and old 
Mr. Starrett’s, and Ben Bourne’s, — most of 
the people hereabout were either Bournes or 
Starretts, — and approached the Amos Starrett 
residence. 

It did not look less lively than usual. Two 
of the children were squabbling for possession of 
die swing, two more were industriously digging 
out the foundations of the rickety door-step, and 
several babies wandered about at large. 

When Marigold stepped up and knocked at 
the door, they all stood still to stare at her. 
“ Ma’s gone away,” volunteered Lottie, — and 
instantly hid behind Beulah as Marigold turned 
toward her. 

But Jennie had seen the caller from within, 
and the door flew open before Marigold had 
time to speak. 


68 


MARIGOLD 


Jennie was overjoyed to receive her visitor. 
She shooed away the clustering children from 
the doorway, and emptied a chair for her, quite 
flushed with the pride of it. 

But Marigold remained standing in the door, 
surprised at the unwonted quiet and emptiness 
of the kitchen. 

“ Why, where’s your mother gone ? ” she 
asked, greatly puzzled ; and where’s the baby ? ” 
and Jennie explained, with some pride in the 
circumstance, that her mother had taken the baby 
“ into town ” (the large town, six miles away, in- 
land) “to see the doctor.” 

It seemed to Marigold a queer way to treat a 
sick baby ; but no doubt its mother knew best. 

She emptied her basket on the table, among 
the breakfast dishes, and began to deliver mam- 
ma’s messages ; but the little ones’ faces fell so 
dolefully (they had followed her in, of course), 
and Jennie looked so abashed and disappointed 
as they saw she was about to go away, that Mari- 


MARIGOLD 


69 


gold had not the heart to go at once. She took 
the offered chair, and the three faces brightened 
again. 

It was not a particularly pleasant place to stay 
in ; she would far rather have been out-of-doors. 

She had been brought up in a house not much 
bigger or better than this one; but at least Mrs. 
Murray’s kitchen had always been clean. Mari- 
gold thought of its shining yellow-painted floor, 
and the table scoured so smooth and white, and 
glanced about her with growing distaste for the 
dirt and disorder everywhere. 

She had been well trained as helper to her 
neat, hard-working stepmother, and it almost 
seemed as if she must lay hands on the confusion 
of the comfortless room, and straighten things out. 

Suddenly a bright thought occurred to her. 

She knew right well the fascinations of the 
shore-path, — it would be a good hour before 
the girls would come back for her (Rod was not 
likely to come at all). 


70 


MARIGOLD 


She smiled at Jennie with new cordiality. “ No, 
I don’t need to hurry,” she answered her anxious 
question. “ Would you like to have me stay 
awhile and play with you ? ” 

Would they like it ! Jennie blushed and 
stammered with joy, and Beulah and Lottie and 
little Alveria shouted a gleeful assent. 

Marigold took command of them all instantly. 
You know she liked ‘‘bossing;” and it isn’t 
often you get such a chance as this to have things 
all your own way, with every one else delighted 
to let you ! 

In two minutes she had planned it all out, and 
had fallen upon that slovenly kitchen with an 
energy never seen there before. 

They were playing “ keep house.” Marigold 
was the mother, and all the others were her chil- 
dren. (Jennie usually preferred to be mother 
herself, but now she was only too happy to con- 
sent to anything the little “ queen who wasn’t 
grown up yet ” might suggest.) 


MARIGOLD 


71 


She set them all to work, ordering them about 
with a funny assumption of Mrs. Murray’s brisk- 
est mood which kept them all laughing. 

My goodness ! Haven’t you got that fire 
made yet.^” she scolded. “ How are you going 
to wash dishes in cold water? Quick, now, — 
fly round ! ” 

“Yes, ma,” giggled Jennie, her hands full of 
kindlings and the matches in her mouth. Really 
it seemed fun to build a fire this way, — almost 
as much fun as if it were a play fire in a make- 

believe stove. 

i 

Marigold, meanwhile, was scraping and piling 
the dishes neatly, ready for washing. 

“You children,” — she pounced suddenly on 
the two next biggest, — “ you be clearing up this 
room. Stop, — wait till I tell you. Each of 
you is to put away a dozen things, — put them 
in their own proper places, mind, — and the one 
that finishes first can have ” — they waited, open- 
mouthed, while her eyes went rather wildly over 


72 


MARIGOLD 


the table in search of a prize — “ can have a hig 
slice of bread and molasses ! ” she finished tri- 
umphantly. 

Somehow the way she said it sounded like 
plum-cake ; and the children flew at the clothes, 
and playthings, and general litter, in a perfect 
fury of haste. 

Marigold’s hat was off now, and her sleeves 
tucked up. She was beginning to have a very 
good time herself. 

When Jennie had, under orders, swept the 
floor, — raising a tremendous dust in the process, 
and constantly tripping over the fiercely com- 
peting Lottie and Beulah, — the teakettle was 
humming merrily, and the dishes were ready to 
be washed. 

But then came a hunt for towels, for Marigold 
firmly refused to have anything to do with the 
stiff and dingy specimens which she found in a 
crumpled heap at the back of the table, and lifted 
with the tips of her fingers. 



" MARIGOLD WASHED, AND JENNY, RUSHING TO AND FRO, 
HAD HARD WORK TO KEEP UP WITH HER.” 







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In her character of severe mother she de- 
manded “ clean ones, — and lots of ’em ! ” and 
Jennie at last succeeded in producing a roller- 
towel and some clean rags, which were accepted. 

Then they fell to work. Marigold washed, 
and Jennie, rushing to and fro between sink and 
table, had hard work to keep up with her. 

They tried to see how near done they could 
be before the clock struck, and both found them- 
selves hurrying as though their lives depended 
on it. 

Perhaps they might have quite finished inside 
the limit of time, had not the anxious mother 
been obliged to stop and arbitrate a lively dis- 
pute between her two younger children, over the 
dust-pan, which each wished to add to her own 
score. 

Marigold adjudged the pan to Beulah, and 
the dust in it to Lottie, so the quarrel was peace- 
fully settled, and when Beulah claimed and re- 
ceived the prize, another threatened storm was 


74 


MARIGOLD 


averted by awarding Lottie the “ second prize 
— also of bread and molasses. 

Then they were kindly given permission to 
run out and play, and departed with their sticky 
trophies, leaving a remarkably neat and orderly 
room (compared with what it had been). 

But faithful Jennie, proud of her post as first 
assistant, worked on without flagging until the 
last dish was in the closet, the towels washed and 
hung out to dry, the sink scalded and rubbed 
down, and the table scrubbed clean. 

Then Marigold looked around the transformed 
kitchen (and if ever a kitchen was astonished at 
itself it must have been that morning), and drew 
a deep sigh of satisfaction. 

“ I do just love to wash dishes, when there is 
plenty of hot water and a lot of nice clean towels, 
don't you ? ” 

No doubt Jennie believed she was telling the 
truth when she responded, fervently, “ Oh, my, 
yes ! ” but, in reality, I fancy that was the first 


MARIGOLD 75 

time she had ever washed dishes in her life with- 
out hating the task, and shirking all she could 
of it. 

And won't your mother be pleased, when 
she gets home, so tired!" said Marigold, ex- 
ultantly ; and Jennie looked delighted at the 
prospect. 

You see she liked and admired Marigold so 
much that she was ready to accept any idea she 
suggested. And this again was because Marigold 
was that kind of girl. 


CHAPTER VI. 


With a startled glance at the clock Marigold 
caught up her hat and turned to look for her 
basket. 

“ Why, how can it be so late ? she said in 
surprise. “ I have been here more than an hour, 
and they will be waiting for me up on the hill. I 
must hurry ! ** 

But at the door she turned to look once more 
around the tidy kitchen. 

“ I wish we could have washed the floor and 
blacked the stove,” she said, regretfully. ‘‘ That 
would be real fun.” 

‘‘ 1 guess there ain’t any blacking,” Jennie 
returned, with a vague impulse to console the 
regret, and Marigold, glancing again at the stove, 

thought it was very probable. 

76 


MARIGOLD 77 

When she had gone Jennie also looked at the 
stove, and then, filled with the determination to 
do everything Marigold wished, she set to work 
energetically to rub it clean. 

The result was not perfection, and perhaps she 
would better not have used the baby’s apron for 
the purpose — but it was a step in the right 
direction. 

As she worked away at it Jennie’s mind was 
busy with a question she would have liked, but 
was too shy, to ask. How did Marigold, who 
was “ summer folks ” and lived in a fine big 
house, and drove in carriages, know so much 
about doing housework ? 

Jennie knew so little about the summer folks 
that her idea of them was very like the princesses 
in the fairy tales — sitting on velvet cushions and 
eating with golden spoons. 

But as she thought it over she concluded that 
“ rich folks must have work to do, same as poor 
folks, only probably it was elegant work.” 


78 


MARIGOLD 


Maybe their dish-towels were fringed, and the 
dish-pan was silver-plated, like Aunt Sarah's but- 
ter-dish. 

Jennie could “ s'pose," you see, as well as 
Mary and Marigold. 

This new idea of the rich and great daintily 
performing their daily tasks was an inspiration to 
her. Jennie made a heroic resolve on the spot, 
that she would hereafter wash the dish-towels 
every day! In that way at least she could be 
like Marigold. 

As for that little person, tripping blithely over 
the stony road to the shore, swinging her empty 
basket and singing to herself, how she would 
have laughed at Jennie's wonderful notions, and 
how readily and frankly she would have answered 
her question if it had been asked. 

She went along the Cove road to the bridge 
and up the shore-path above the cliffs of Ship 
Head, humming her little song and swinging her 
basket, in a very contented mood. She had quite 


MARIGOLD 


79 


forgotten her little gnevance against Elinor, so 
much had happened since then. 

As she followed the turns of the path among 
the ledges and bayberry thickets she kept a bright 
lookout for the other children, both ahead and 
behind her. It was strange she did not see them 
anywhere. Could they have tired of waiting and 
gone on home without her? That would be 
mean ! 

A little frown-pucker began to show itself 
faintly between her eyebrows, as the idea became 
more and more probable. 

But before the pucker had time to grow into a 
real frown the path jumped down over a low- 
lying ledge, and Marigold jumped with it — 
almost on top of Rod, who was lying flat on his 
back in the sunshine, eating checkerberry leaves, 
and apparently doing nothing else at all. 

“ Why, Rod,” cried Marigold, laughing as she 
recovered her balance, — “I almost smashed you ! 
What are you doing there ? ” 


So 


MARIGOLD 


“ Waiting for you,” he answered, briefly, sit- 
ting up and shaking himself like a dog. 

“ But where are the rest ? ” she asked, puzzled, 
and looked around, half expecting to find them 
hidden under the bayberry bushes. 

“ Didn’t come — gone home the other road,” 
he returned, still briefly ; but after a moment’s 
pause, to see how she took it, he chuckled at the » 
expressiveness of her silent, close-shut lips, and 
condescended to explain further. 

“We met the What-do-you-call-’ems — the 
people at the red cottage — in their automobile, 
and they offered us a ride home, ’round by way 
of the north village. Girls wanted to go, of 
course — so they piled in. 

“ Mary didn’t like it a bit,” he went on, laugh- 
ing again. “ She’d rather have come back to 
meet you, but she had to go because they were 
‘company;’ — so I told her I’d let you know.” 

He might have told a little more ; how, moved 
by his little cousin’s troubled face as she hesitated 


MARIGOLD 


8l 


between politeness and affection, — and perhaps 
moved partly, too, by the slight to Marigold, — 
he had given up his own plans for the morning 
and settled the difficulty by offering to go back 
and meet her himself. So Mary, relieved and 
grateful, was able to go with her guests with a 
mind at ease. 

Marigold stood listening to the story, absently 
stripping the bay branches through her fingers, 
and with the frown-pucker showing again pretty 
plainly. 

But she couldn’t help guessing the part he left 
out, and as he ended the pucker vanished, and 
Marigold’s smile flashed out at him with a sud- 
den friendly heartiness that surprised him. 

“ Clear grit ! ” he said to himself, approvingly. 
“ Won’t show she’s hurt or mad.” And he liked 
this trait in her so much that in another minute 
he was astonished to hear himself making a pro- 
posal which had not entered his head until that 


moment. 


82 


MARIGOLD 


‘‘ Say — we don’t have to go home yet, — it’s 
a long time to luncheon. Come back down to 
the Cove and let’s have some fun.” 

“All right, let’s,” was all she said; but as she 
followed him back along the path, her face was 
shining. She was as proud and happy as she 
had made Jennie Starrett an hour ago. 

To be going off somewhere with Rodney 
alone, — to be asked to go, — that was “fun” 
enough for her, whatever it might be that he was 
planning to do. 

He sauntered on in front, hands in pockets, 
whistling by snatches, and she followed in deep, 
silent content. 

Presently he broke off a popular song in the 
middle to ask again, curiously, over his shoulder : 

“ What on earth kept you so long down there ? 
I’ve been waiting about six hours. Anybody sick 
or dead ? ” 

Marigold had not explained her doings before, 
simply because it had not occurred to her that 


MARIGOLD 


83 


Rod would take any interest in so purely domes- 
tic an episode. But if he did care enough to ask 
about it she was quite ready and pleased to tell ; 
and full of the pleasant new sense of comradeship, 
she chattered away as freely as she would have 
talked to Mary. 

By the time they were picking their way across 
the pebbly beach, at the mouth of the Cove, 
Rodney was in possession of all the main facts 
and most of the details of the morning's visit, 
even to the dish-towels and the stove-blacking 
(or lack of it). 

She made a bright, gay little story of it ; and 
Rod listened and laughed, but made no comment 
till she had ended. Then he remarked, but not 
unsympathetically, So that’s your idea of fun, is 
it ? — Clearing up a dirty house for people that 
are too lazy to do it themselves ! ” 

“ Oh, but it wasn’t just the fun of it. Rod — 
that wasn’t all,” broke in Marigold, very ear- 
nestly. “ I was thinking of something else, too. 


84 MARIGOLD 

really I was ! Because if they found it was fun 
to clear up, and nice to be clean and neat, don’t 
you think they might keep it up? Jennie was 
pleased, ever so pleased ! ” 

Why, yes, of course,” Rod agreed, heartily. 
“They’ll most likely keep right on,” and to 
himself he added, “ for two days ! ” But he did 
not say it aloud, and as he saw her earnest face 
brighten at his approval he was glad he had not. 
“Anyhow, you re a brick. Marigold!” he fin- 
ished. 

In days gone by Marigold had more than 
once been called “ Brick-top ” by a displeased 
stepbrother or playmate, and for an instant she 
regarded Rod’s unconscious back with some sus- 
picion. Then she laughed quietly, realizing that 
those old days of rudeness and squabbles were 
indeed gone by. 

Then she fell to wondering why they were 
coming back to the Cove. What was the “ fun ” 
which he proposed? 


MARIGOLD 


85 


Presently she began to understand ! 

They were not aiming for the village road, but 
right across the rough shingle of the beach to 
where Hosea Starretfs punt was pulled up high 
and dry on the pebbles — a sure sign that Hosea 
was not going to use it that morning, for all the 
other men’s punts were already riding out in the 
Cove. 

They were going out in a boat ! Marigold 
caught her breath in a gasp of sheer delight. 

Never in all her eleven years had she been in a 
boat before. 

All summer she had seen the beautiful dories, 
flying out to sea under their white sails like the 
great white gulls, and flying home again with 
their loads, or rocking and dipping at rest in the 
Cove, and had longed to fly with them, but only 
as one watches the soft white summer clouds and 
longs to sail with them through the summer sky, 
but with no hope or even thought of fulfilment. 

And now — ! Marigold could have hugged 


86 


MARIGOLD 


Rodney. Needless to say, she did not ; she 
knew well how boys dislike a “ fuss,'* and she 
only said, “ Oh, are we going out rowing ? 
How jolly!’* as quietly as she could. But her 
eyes and the corners of her mouth said the rest 
in spite of her, and Rod was satisfied. 

This was not one of the birdlike dories. 
Hosea Starrett’s punt was a flat-bottomed, square- 
toed little affair, just like a long, shallow wooden 
box; also it was rather wet and not overclean. 
But boys never mind that sort of thing, and for 
this occasion Marigold too was a boy — for at 
last she was really “ chums ” with Rod 1 

Wasn’t that pleasure enough to offset any pos- 
sible drawbacks ? 

She tucked up her sleeves (for the second time 
that morning), took one of the rusty tins, and 
helped bale out the dirty water. 

Rod, watching her, silently approved. Takes 
hold like a good fellow, and does her share,” he 
thought. “No fine lady about her.” 


MARIGOLD 87 

But he saw, too, that she did her share as 
daintily as any fine lady could. The pretty 
clean frock was in no danger from the splashing 
water, and when she helped to pull the punt 
down the beach her neat little shoes suffered no 
harm. 

Boys may not care for “ fuss and feathers,” 
but they do like a girl to be dainty — not too 
precisely like themselves, even though she is a 
bit of a tomboy, as Marigold certainly was. 


CHAPTER VII. 


Out on the water, — actually afloat on the 
ocean ! 

The little boat bobbed and danced and slid 
about on the surface of the water, as punts do, 
and Rod had plenty of work to keep her “ head 
on to the little rollers that came into the 
Cove. 

“ Now where shall we go ? ” he asked, amused 
by Marigold’s rapturous face, as she sat perched 
on the stern seat, firmly clutching the sides, — 
and willing to heighten that rapture, while he 
was about it, by any means in his power. 

To her the invitation to choose was as though 

Columbus had said to one of his sailors, Where 

shall we go ? ” With the whole bright, breezy 

world of water and sky before them, — the whole 
88 


MARIGOLD 89 

enchanting Atlantic coast behind, — how was one 
to choose ? 

But then a glorious idea flashed into her head. 
“ Rodney ! Could we go as far as the Seal Rocks ? ” 
she asked, half-afraid of the magnificence of her 
suggestion. 

“ Course, if you want to,*' he said, coolly, and 
laid his course across the Cove, past the little 
fleet of punts bobbing at their moorings. 

The Seal Rocks lay oflF the end of Ship Head. 
They were, in fact, the outermost rocks of the 
long point, and were also the highest of a group 
of ugly ledges, avoided by the fishermen, except 
at the highest tide. 

The idea of exploring them pleased Rodney, 
and he pulled stoutly out along the Head. 

All their familiar haunts among the rocks 
looked strange from this new point of view. 
Marigold recognized one after another with cries 
of delighted surprise, and Rod laughed, indul- 
gently, at her excitement. 


90 


MARIGOLD 


Giving Marigold a good time, he found, was 
quite a lively entertainment for himself as 
well. 

But when they got out beyond the shelter of the 
high shores, things began to look different. The 
wind was light, but aided by the current among 
the ledges, it made the water inconveniently 
rough, and it grew harder and harder to keep 
the dancing little punt straight. 

He began to realize that he had undertaken 
a foolish voyage, but he only set his teeth and 
pulled the harder against the short chopping 
waves that slapped and twisted the punt about at 
their pleasure. 

He watched Marigold covertly, curious once 
more to see “ how she took it.*' It was high 
time for a girl to be getting scared. 

Marigold held tight by the gunwale and 
laughed in pure glee as the little boat bobbed 
and dipped. When the bigger waves slapped 
the side and dashed the cold spray in her face 


MARIGOLD 


91 


she screamed, to be sure, but it was from joyous 
excitement. She was too ignorant of danger 
even to be afraid, and all her natural pluck and 
daring rejoiced in the adventure. 

Rod watched her wondering, and his mental 
comment was an exact echo of Dick Saunders’s 
verdict a year ago, “ Well, of all the plucky 
kids ! ” 

But perhaps he was giving her courage too 
much credit ; for besides the great advantage of 
her ignorance she had another ; she did not feel 
responsible, as he did, for the success of the expe- 
pedition, — and for getting home alive. 

Moreover, she was not doing the rowing ! 

It was impossible to make a landing on those 
ugly, jagged, black rocks, with the white water 
plunging and churning among them, but they got 
near enough to see and enjoy, half-terrified, all 
the wild, savage beauty of it, and “ to feel that 
they had been there,” as Marigold said. 

She was quite content now, and offered no 


92 


MARIGOLD 


protest when the boat was headed again for the 
Cove. 

Rodney was more than content — he was im- 
mensely relieved. They had the wind behind 
them now, and the row home took only half the 
time it had taken to come out. Long before she 
had had enough of it the punt bumped and 
scraped on the shingle of the beach, and Mari- 
gold’s first voyage was ended. 

Rod sprang out and made fast with a turn of 
the rope around a convenient stone. 

Marigold followed, and then stood watching 
with interest while he selected a suitable stone for 
a hammer and stepped back into the punt to 
pound down a loosened cleat in the stern. 

He was anxious that Hosea should find nothing 
amiss about the boat after he had borrowed it ; 
and he was so busy making sure that all was ship- 
shape that he did not notice how his movements 
and his weight at the stern were loosening the 
boat from her hold on the pebbles. 


MARIGOLD 


93 


But presently a little wave of the rising tide 
lifted her clear altogether, and as she swung 
around Rod sprang to his feet in alarm, and took 
in the situation. 

Hi, there, the painter’s loose ! Catch it, 
quick ! ” he shouted. 

Poor Marigold stared around her in bewilder- 
ment. Her only association with the word 
“ painter ” was a man under a white umbrella 
(of whom there were many on that lovely coast), 
and for a moment she had a wild vision of herself 
pursuing some mad artist over the rocks. Then 
she saw Rod’s pointing hand, as he repeated, 
anxiously, “ The painter — that rope ! Get hold 
of it, — put your foot on it ; I’m going adrift ! ” 

Marigold understood now, and snatched at the 
rope, which slipped away from under her fingers 
like some live thing making for the water. She 
sprang forward and snatched again, but without 
success. 

Rod was scrambling forward to jump ashore. 


94 


MARIGOLD 


but the shifting of his weight only hastened the 
movement of the boat, and all in a moment it 
was too late to jump — he was fairly adrift. 

There was no danger, of course. The oars 
were on the beach, but it would have been easy 
enough to jump out and swim, or even wade, 
ashore, — with or without the punt. Still, the 
ducking would be disagreeable in itself, and 
Rod’s call was sharp with hurry. 

And Marigold did not stop to reason it out. 
The suddenness of the emergency, and her total 
ignorance of the possibilities of boats* ill-be- 
havior, quite upset her ordinary presence of 
mind, and she was conscious of nothing but 
impending disaster. The beautiful voyage — 
her happy morning with Rod — was ending in 
failure, in catastrophe, and it was all her fault ! 
She might have saved him, but she was not 
quick enough. 

The loss of Hosea’s punt, — Rodney drowned 
or drifting out to sea, — all sorts of dreadful ideas 



“‘GREAT SCOTT, MARIGOLD, LOOK AT YOUR SHOES!’” 



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MARIGOLD 


95 


flashed through her frightened head in an instant 
of time. In another instant, or hardly more, she 
had hold of that rope — and was standing in 
nearly a foot of cold sea water ! One last des- 
perate leap and clutch had done it; and Rod 
was saved. 

He did not seem particularly grateful. “ Well, 
now you have done it ! was his comment, as 
she pulled the boat in and he sprang ashore. 
“ Great Scott, Marigold, look at your shoes ! ” 

The injunction was quite unnecessary ; she was 
looking at them, and with considerable dismay. 
For most of the years of her life nice clothes had 
been such rare and precious possessions to Mari- 
gold that it was impossible not to regard them 
with care and respect even now when she wore 
them every day. 

Rod was laughing. I owe you a pair of 
shoes for that,*’ he said ; — you saved my life, 
you know,” but to himself he repeated that 
Marigold was a brick, if she was a goose to 


MARIGOLD 


96 

jump like that. He appreciated the gallant little 
rescue, and really was grateful to her ; and when 
he saw her face of sorrowful concern his own 
sobered quickly. What’s the matter ? Will 
Aunt May be mad ? ” he questioned, kindly. 

Mamma Merington mad! The idea brought 
the curl of laughter back to Marigold’s lips in a 
twinkling; but still she gazed ruefully at the 
pretty shoes. 

She consulted Rodney. “What can I do? — 
they squish so, when I step I Shall I take them 
off? I don’t mind walking home barefoot — 
not muchy" she added, truthfully, thinking of 
Elinor. 

“ Oh, no, keep ’em on. It’s the only way to 
dry ’em without their getting stiff,” counselled 
Rod, much experienced in wet feet. “ But you 
want to walk fast and keep warm, or you’ll be 
catching cold.” Girls always were catching colds, 
he reflected, with some alarm ; and grasping her 
arm he hurried her up the hill at a breathless pace. 


marigold 


97 


They did walk fast, and they took all the 
short cuts. By the time they were in sight of 
the house the little shoes had almost ceased to 
‘‘ squish,’' and Marigold was rosy and glowing. 
At Rodney’s anxious query, “ Say, do you sup- 
pose you did catch cold ? ” she broke into her 
merriest laugh. 

^ ‘‘ Cold^ — I’m burning up ! I never have colds 
— at least except when it’s burglars in the 
rain.” (Marigold always tried to be strictly 
accurate. She was literal-minded,” don’t you 
remember ?) 

“But, Rod, — wait a minute.” They were 
turning the last corner, and she plucked his 
sleeve, a little shyly, to hold him back. “ I just 
want you to know,” she murmured. “ I don’t 
mind the getting wet, — not the least bit, truly, — 
for we did have such a lovely time, didn’t we ? ” 

“ We did that ! ” he responded, cheerfully ; 
and then he delighted her soul by adding, as if 
he meant it: “And you are a jolly one to go 


98 


MARIGOLD 


anywhere, Marigold. You don*t mind things, 
— and you’re not a ’fraid-cat.” 

She looked up at him with shining eyes. 

’Most as good as a boy ? ” she suggested, smil- 
ing but wistful. 

“ Better’n some boys ! ” he assured her ; and 
Marigold’s heart swelled with pride and joy. 
Mary had been wrong. 

They turned the corner then, and the other 
girls, watching for them from the piazza, rushed 
to meet them, with a flood of questions. 

“ Where have you been, all this time ? We 
got home ages ago ! ” 

While Rodney laughed and teased, and baffled 
their curiosity. Marigold slipped away indoors. 
She was impatient to get rid of those squishing 
shoes, and she could not rest till she had found 
mamma and confessed her carelessness. 

No, Mamma Merington was not ‘‘mad” — 
that was not her way ; but when she understood 
how the accident had happened, and whither the 


MARIGOLD 


99 


reckless pair of mariners had voyaged, she looked 
so grave and so distressed that Marigold was 
filled with remorse and grief, remembering too 
late that mamma was nervous about boats.*' 
Eager to make amends, she offered to promise 
never to go out in one again ; but mamma ac- 
cepted the sacrifice only in a modified form. If 
Marigold would promise not to go without the 
knowledge of either herself or papa, her mind 
would be quite easy, — for she knew the child 
was true as steel, and that the promise once made 
would be sacredly kept. 

But with Rodney the case was different. 
Mamma was sensible, and knew that a big fellow 
of fifteen need not be kept out of boats, if he 
knows anything about them. So she bravely 
controlled her nervous anxiety, and did not 
attempt to restrict his enjoyment. 

But you see she was thinking only of Hosea's 
punt, and the dories. She did not know a word 
about Renshaw's yacht ! 

Lore. 


CHAPTER VIIL 


Sailing day came, and the cousins went, that 
is, the twins and their mother, — for, as Rodney 
had foreseen, his father was rather pleased than 
otherwise by his change of plans, and had sent 
ready permission to ‘Mo as he liked, provided 
his aunt was willing to be bothered with him/’ 
So Rodney stayed. 

It seemed very quiet at first, when the bustle 
of departure was over, and the long, jolly visit at 
an end. 

Mary and Marigold felt a little lonely, happy 
though they always were in each other’s com- 
pany, and they privately wondered if Rod were 
not lonesome, too, — sorry, now when it was too 
late, that he had let himself be left behind. 

If so he kept it to himself, and the only sign 

lOO 


MARIGOLD 


lOI 


of it was that he seemed rather more content than 
usual with his little cousins' society, and spent 
most of his time with them for the first few days. 

Pleased and flattered by his companionship, 
and affectionately anxious to divert his mind 
from possible regrets, the little girls did their 
very best to please and entertain him, and for 
awhile everything went charmingly. 

They bathed every morning, down on the 
pretty Half Moon Beach, and Rod taught Mari- 
gold to float and to swim on her back. 

Even Mary was coaxed by the other two to 
float, and delighted to lie with the little warm 
waves rippling about her face, but only when 
Rod was close at hand to be grasped the moment 
her courage gave out. She was like her mother, 
and would never be very brave in the water. 

But to Marigold it was the keenest delight to 
breast the waves on the rough breezy mornings, 
and try her strength against theirs. She learned 
very quickly, and Rod was so proud of his pupil 


102 


MARIGOLD 


that he took great interest in teaching her all 
the tricks he knew. 

After the bath was over they would roam 
along the beach and climb out over the rocks 
toward Ship Head, exploring all the delightful 
chasms and ledges, and always on the lookout for 
new treasures for their store. 

There was a new charm now in these collec- 
tions, for it had been decided that the family 
were to go to Berket, after all, for a little while 
in September. 

There were repairs and alterations being made 
in the house there, which mamma wished to see 
and direct for herself, and of course her twins 
must be with her. 

So all Marigold’s pretty plans for the visit to 
her old Murray home were revived, and new 
ones were added daily. 

None of her friends and playmates in McGow- 
an’s Lane had ever seen the sea ; and Marigold, 
brimful of friendly enthusiasm, meant to carry to 


MARIGOLD 103 

them as much of the sea as she could. 1 he 
biggest starfish, and the smallest baby ones, the 
pinkest and the purplest sea-urchins, great white 
sea-clamshells and pretty violet mussels, — all 
were eagerly sought and carefully saved for 
Maggie and Nellie and the rest; and the chil- 
dren were as happy in looking forward to the 
distribution of these simple gifts as if they had 
been real gems from the caves of ocean. 

Rodney was admitted to all their plans now, 
and though he took a less vital interest in 
McGowan's Lane than did Mary 'n' Mary," 
he enjoyed the fun of collecting, and cheerfully 
risked his neck (not to mention his clothes) in 
securing beauties that would have been quite 
beyond their reach. 

Yes, it was all very pleasant for awhile; pity 
it could not have lasted longer. But no doubt 
it was only natural that presently Rodney began 
to weary of the little girls' childish amusements, 
and little by little to drift back to the companions 


104 MARIGOLD 

and pursuits that were more exciting, though less 
wholesome for him. 

Some new fellows had arrived at the hotel, — 
there was quite a group of them now, most of 
them a little older than Rod, which, of course, 
made their society all the more to be desired. 

They spent much time in the hotel bowling- 
alleys ; most of them smoked cigarettes ; and 
when the younger boy was allowed to share in all 
these grown-up pastimes on terms of equality it 
is not surprising that he was flattered and rather 
lost his head. 

At any rate, so it was. Rodney soon became 
fairly skilful at the bowling, and smoked stoutly 
with the rest (though at first he found it a little 
difficult to acquire a taste for burnt paper), and 
was quite indispensable for the yachting trips. 

Mary and Marigold saw less and less of him 
in these days, and at last were forced once more 
to reverse their judgment and sadly agree that 
Mary was right after all, about boys. 


MARIGOLD 


105 


They were talking of it one afternoon when 
they had hoped for his company and help in 
some small enterprise, and had been disappointed. 

Mary was quite as sorry now to find herself 
right as she had formerly been glad to believe 
herself mistaken. 

“ I don’t see why the things we do are not 
as nice as those boys’ things,” she mused mourn- 
fully. 

‘‘ They are nicer — and we do more of them ! ” 
returned Marigold, petulantly. “ But it’s just 
as you said — he’d rather go up to the hotel 
and do stupid things, just because those other 
boys do ! ” 

This was a rather exaggerated version of gentle 
Mary’s theory — but she let it pass. In her 
dejection she was even ready to carry it further. 

“ Then it must be,” she said, pensively, “ he 
thinks the boys are nicer than we are.” 

“ Well, they’re not ! ” snapped Marigold. 
(Her crossness was for Rodney, never for 


io6 


MARIGOLD 


Mary.) ‘‘ Didn’t our soldier say we were the 
jolliest little pair he ever played with, that day 
he built the cunning little fence around my 
calico garden ? I wish he were here — he d play 
with us ! ” 

Mary lifted her drooping head quickly, her 
eyes wide and bright with inspiration. 

‘‘ Why, Marigold, we’ll have him ! Why not 
let’s?” (In moments of excitement Mary’s 
grammar was all her own.) “ I know he’d love 
to come, and wouldn’t it be splendid ! Come 
ask mamma, quick ! ” 

They asked mamma — here is the result. 


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4 



MARIGOLD 


109 


Mamma was well pleased with her daughters' 
plan. 

She liked Dick Saunders, you know, the first 
time she saw him ; and since then she had 
come to know and like him still better. And 
believing as she did that his friendship with the 
two little girls was a thing which would do all 
three good, she was very willing to allow the 
eager little hostesses to send their joint invita- 
tion. 

By the same mail, though they did not know it, 
went two other letters, from mamma herself, — 
one to Dick, repeating the children's invitation, 
and the other an explanation to Papa Merington 
which ensured Dick's leave of absence. For 
Dick, for some months past, had been employed 
in the big business that belonged to papa. (It 
was something about leather; and there were 
big new buildings going up this summer, which 
kept everybody extra busy.) 

The children's letter was a very important, a 


I lO 


MARIGOLD 


momentous, piece of work, and as soon as it was 
signed, sealed, and stamped, they must needs go 
at once to the village to mail it with their own 
hands. 

In the post-office they saw Rod, with some of 
his new friends, and smiled mysteriously at him 
in answer to his nod. 

Their minds about Rod were not the same. 
For once, Mary and Marigold disagreed ; for 
Mary hoped he would not dislike their asking 
another visitor, while Marigold hoped, a little 
spitefully, that he would, “It would show 
him ! ” 

Both, however, were agreed to keep it a secret 
till the time came. 

So they pushed their letter through the slot 
under the little window, and marched back past 
the boys with an air of vast importance and mys- 
tery. 

“ Hello, what’s up ? ” asked Rod, amused ; 
but they only shook their heads and smiled. 


MARIGOLD 


I I I 


As they made their way through the crowd 
about the door. Marigold felt a hand on her 
sleeve, and turned to find Jennie Starrett just be- 
hind her, and pressing close to whisper in her 
ear. 

“Say! We blacked the stove, Beulah and me 
did, — while ma was gone to the store 1 Aunt 
Sarah let us have some blacking.” 

Jennie’s face was so full of eagerness and 
pleasure, it made quite another girl of her ; and 
Marigold’s own face lit up in response with in- 
terest and sympathy. 

“Oh, that’s splendid! Wasn’t she aston- 
ished P ” she whispered back ; and Jennie nodded, 
beaming, as the crowd pressed them apart. 

If her mother’s surprise had not already repaid 
Jennie for her unwonted effort. Marigold’s pleased 
look would have done so, — that and the pride 
of “ having a secret ” with this nicest one of all 
the summer folks. 

A proud and happy girl was Jennie Starrett, 


I 12 


MARIGOLD 


walking home among an eager, inquisitive group 
of playmates, and baffling all their inquiries as 
to what she was talking with that Merington 
girl about” with a lofty tilt of her head and a 
tantalizing “ Oh, something.” 

And Mary and Marigold also walked down 
the street, smiling and happy in the possession of 
their secret. And Mary, too, was curious. 
“ What was Jennie Starrett whispering to you 
about ? ” 

But Marigold did not try to evade the ques- 
tion ; indeed, she hardly waited for it, and Mary, 
who already knew the first chapter of the story, 
was as pleased and interested in this second one 
as heart could wish. 

Mary could not have done what Marigold 
did, — she would never have had the courage, 
even if she had had the same experience in 
housework ; but Marigold having done it, her 
sympathetic imagination enabled her to enter 
into it perfectly, and before the two reached 


MARIGOLD 


II3 

home, they had “ s'posed ” new paint and win- 
dow blinds on to the Starrett house, — not to 
mention a white picket fence and grass in the 
dooryard. 

Then, having provided for the comfort and 
prosperity of the Starrett family, their thoughts 
returned with fresh interest to their own affairs, 
and they began again, — for the dozenth time, 
perhaps — to enjoy in advance all the delights 
of Dick Saunders’s visit. 


CHAPTER IX. 


When Dick Saunders received those two let- 
ters, on a hot August day in the city, he was 
quite as pleased as the children had hoped. He 
was even more pleased, — for the children had 
not known how hot the August days were in the 
city ! 

Dick was working hard that summer, and had 
given himself very little time for play. 

He not only worked hard in the daytime, 
but spent most of his evenings studying, for 
Papa Merington had promised him a better posi- 
tion in his office, just as soon as he was fitted for 
it — and Dick had two good reasons for trying 
very hard to earn his promotion. 

First, like all bright and ambitious young men, 
he wanted to make his way upward in the world 

114 


MARIGOLD 


115 


as fast as he could, — and secondly, he was so 
grateful to the whole Merington family for their 
kindness and interest in him, that he felt no 
amount of hard work would be too much 
to prove that their kindness had not been 
wasted. 

So he stayed in his room with his books on 
many a warm evening or Saturday afternoon 
when he would far rather have been out-of-doors 
amusing himself. 

But here was a holiday, — and the most delight- 
ful sort of holiday possible, — which he not only 
might, but actually ought, to take, since Mrs. 
Merington and those two blessed children wanted 
him ! 

Dick had no little sisters of his own, and he 
was very fond of “ Mary *n* Mary,’* as he still 
called them. 

He came down Friday afternoon, and Andrews 
drove him over from the station. 

It happened that the whole family were gath- 


ii6 


MARIGOLD 


ered on the piazza when he arrived ; for mamma 
was just saying good-by to some callers, while 
the children were waiting impatiently for the 
return of the carriage. 

At the moment it turned into the driveway, 
three of the party — the two visitors and Rodney 
— received a surprise ; for at the same moment 
the two pretty, well-behaved little girls who had 
sat quietly and politely listening to their elders 
sprang to their feet with a joyful shriek of 
“ There he is — Dick’s come ! ” and flew to 
meet him. 

Rodney knew by this time that a guest was 
expected, but he had not quite grasped the idea 
that said guest was the peculiar property of Mary 
and Marigold. 

In his ignorance he had rather appropriated 
the visit to himself, and thought it would be 
pleasant to have “ another fellow ” in the house, 
even though he were a good deal older than 
himself. 


MARIGOLD 


II7 

But if the children surprised him, so also did 
the “ other fellow.*’ 

One of the nicest things about Dick Saunders 
— the one thing, perhaps, for which Mamma 
Merington liked him more than for any other 
one — was that he not only was very fond of the 
little girls, but was not a bit ashamed to show it. 

He jumped from the carnage as they ran to 
meet it, and hugged and kissed them both as 
though they had really been his own little sisters 
(as more than once, in lonely moments, he had 
wished they were). 

As he came up the steps to meet mamma 
and be introduced to the strangers, the children 
were still clinging to him on either side, and he 
didn’t seem to mind at all, or feel in the least 
embarrassed. 

Rodney looked on in wonderment. 

And yet he couldn’t help liking Dick — though 
he very soon saw his mistake in expecting that 
he was to entertain him. For the girls had 


MARIGOLD 


I l8 

Still better reason to consider that their soldier 
belonged wholly to them^ and did not scruple 
to take entire possession of him, though they 
kindly allowed Rodney to come along, too, if 
he wished. 

Dick Saunders was just the kind of young 
man that a boy of Rod's age would naturally 
admire, — lively and jolly, and ready for any 
sort of fun ; and he was also a very honest, 
manly, straightforward kind of fellow, as any 
one might see. 

But this, strange to say, seemed almost to 
repel, instead of attracting Rod. 

He himself did not understand — or, if he 
did, would not admit to himself — why it should 
give him that fretful, resentful feeling; but it 
certainly did, at times, and during the three days 
of Dick's visit Rodney behaved in an oddly 
capricious fashion, now joining the others in their 
fun, and then suddenly breaking away to go off 
by himself. 


MARIGOLD 


II9 

Meanwhile Dick, on his side, was quietly 
taking a few notes, — “ sizing him up,’* I suppose 
he would have said, — and with not a very favor- 
able result. There were only a few days, to be 
sure, and nothing special happened ; but several 
little things gave him hints. 

There was that first night, for instance, when 
they started to build a bonfire on the beach, just 
at the edge of twilight. 

The children loved dearly to gather the bits 
of driftwood scattered along the line of high 
tide, and pile them into a hot, red, snapping blaze 
among the rocks, back of the beach. 

They seized eagerly on this opportunity — for 
of course they were allowed to build fires only 
when some “ grown-up ** was there to take care 
of them. 

Dick took as much interest in it as any of 
them, but in the midst of their preparations he 
stopped suddenly in comic dismay. 

“Hello!” he cried, “how are you going to 


120 


MARIGOLD 


make a fire without a match ? Do you use flint 
and steel in this part of the country ? ” 

The little girls paused with their arms full of 
wood, their faces reflecting his dismay. They 
had taken for granted that “ grown-ups ” always 
had matches. Papa always did — and An- 
drews. To be sure, Dick was not so very much 
grown-up. 

“ Got a light ? ” Dick asked Rod, as he came 
up dragging a fine big backlog. He meant it 
only as a joke ; but Rod very coolly nodded 
and handed him — not a match, but a box of 
matches. 

Dick took it without comment, but as he bent 
over his improvised fireplace there was a queer 
expression on his face for a moment. You 
would think the innocent-looking little box had 
told him something. 

It was a glorious bonfire! It roared and 
sparkled and streamed up into the evening air 
till it lighted the whole face of the cliff with a 


MARIGOLD 


I2I 


rosy flare. And there must have been some bit 
of real ship-wood in it, too ; for down on one 
side were the loveliest little shooting flames of 
blue and green ind violet. And they all sat 
around watching and exclaiming over them, 
shielding their burnt cheeks from the blaze, 
wiping the smoke-tears from their eyes, and 
having a perfectly lovely time, until it was almost 
dark, and mamma came out across the grass to 
the top of the cliff-steps, to call them in to 
dinner. 

Then there were Saturday and Sunday, two 
whole days, and half of Monday, with Dick. 
And they made the most of every minute. 

They bathed, they climbed over the rocks, 
they drove for miles along the beautiful road be- 
tween the sea and the hills. They sat out on 
their favorite ledge in the pasture, and saw the 
evening star rise out of the sea, and the hunter’s 
moon come up clear and pale from the horizon 
or large and golden out of a bank of haze. 


122 


MARIGOLD 


When on Monday afternoon Dick Saunders 
said good-by to them all, and turned his face 
back toward the city, it was after the happiest 
little visit of his life. 

He felt refreshed, and strong enough to face 
the rest of the city summer very cheerfully, and 
the hard work and study seemed twice as worth 
while as they had before. 

Mamma Merington had enjoyed the visit, too, 
as well as the young folks. There had been 
time among all the frolics and excursions for a 
few quiet little talks ; and while she found Dick 
much improved in little things, in the big ones 
he was just the same, — honest, and brave, and 
warm-hearted, as well as light-hearted. 

“Yes, Dick certainly pays!” she wrote to 
Papa Merington. 

Mary and Marigold were perfectly happy, of 
course, while the visit lasted, and when it was 
ended found themselves much refreshed in 
spirits, and less depressed than they had been be- 


MARIGOLD 


123 


fore it by the desertion of Rodney. It was quite 
as possible, after all, to enjoy life without his 
assistance as it had been before he came. 

So it seemed that Dick's visit had made every- 
body happy, and done everybody good, — ex- 
cepting Rod ! 

Rod’s feelings continued to be a good deal 
mixed. He liked Dick Saunders, — he even 
admired him ; but that was just the reason why 
Dick made him uncomfortable. He could not 
avoid a vexatious consciousness that if Dick 
knew him better, he would not approve of him, 
and though he was not yet ready to give up 
those doubtful ways of amusing himself, still that 
provoking consciousness took much of the pleas- 
ure out of them. 

So you may judge for yourself whether Dick’s 
coming had really done every\ioA^ good. 

No one in the world could say there was the 
least bit of priggishness about Dick Saunders, — 
and yet a few cutting remarks he had dropped 


124 


MARIGOLD 


casually about the “ smartness ’’ of cigarette smok- 
ing, had almost made Rodney think that perhaps 
he would drop it when he went back to the 
city. 

(Of course he understood those remarks had 
not been aimed at him. He never smoked 
about the house, so Dick could not have known 
anything about it.) 

The discomfort of these mixed feelings had 
the not uncommon effect of making Rod cross. 
In the days that followed Dick’s departure he 
grew so irritable that the little cousins did not 
know what to make of him. They were snapped 
at and snubbed when they could not even guess 
what they had done to deserve it ! 

“It does seem,” sighed gentle Mary in de- 
spair, “ as if Dick’s coming had only made him 
twice as worse ! ” And though she joined 
doubtfully in Marigold’s laugh at the way she said 
it, they both agreed that what she said was true. 

At last Rodney deserted them altogether, and 


MARIGOLD 125 

for some days they saw as little of him, almost, 
as though he had been living at the hotel out- 
right. 

It seems strange, doesn’t it, that Mamma 
Merington should not have known about all 
this ; she was usually the confidant of every 
smallest trouble. 

But you see Rod was growing unpleasantly 
skilful (I don’t like to say sly) in arranging his 
comings and goings. And as for the girls, 
though they were hurt and vexed sometimes, 
they were both too generous and too proud to 
complain of Rod to any one, even dear mamma. 

If Rod didn’t like them, after all, — if they 
were not nice enough to make him want to stay 
with them, — it was a grievous thing, but not a 
thing to bear talking about. 

They did not say much even to each other, 
but did their best to have a good time without 
him, and not to think too much about the good 
times they had hoped to have with him. 


CHAPTER X. 


Two of the children seemed to be out of 
sorts that morning. 

Rodney was silent and moody, as he so often 
was in these days ; while Marigold also was 
sober, for her, and a little pucker of doubt and 
perplexity came between her eyebrows as often as 
she looked at him. Rod noticed it, as well as 
Mary, and it annoyed him vaguely, and made 
him still more “ grumpy.” 

However, the forenoon passed quietly, with no 
further sign of a coming storm. Very soon after 
breakfast Rod disappeared, and the girls went 
down to the beach to resume the “ Landing of 
the Norsemen.” 

This play had grown out of mamma’s stories, 
and had gone on for some time without losing its 
charm. 


126 


MARIGOLD 127 

There were quite a number now of the square 
stone huts outlined, each with its neat little fire- 
place in the centre. Dick Saunders had spent 
one arduous morning moving the big corner 
stones for them — and there were also a fort 
on the landward side of the village, to protect it 
from the terrible “ Skraellings,” and a stone-paved 
causeway leading down to the landing-place for 
the galleys. “ NORUM BEGA was spelled 
out in white pebbles in this pavement — a fine 
touch which, no doubt, Leif Ericson would wish 
he had thought of himself. 

But when the children met again, a little while 
before luncheon, Marigold’s perplexity, whatever 
it was, came back ; and Mary, who was very sen- 
sitive, distinctly felt a sense of coming trouble in 
the air. 

The truth was that Marigold was nerving her- 
self to an unpleasant and possibly risky proceed- 
ing ; and though Dick Saunders had done her no 
more than justice when he called her “ a plucky 


128 


MARIGOLD 


kid/* it needed all her pluck to interfere with 
Rodney in his present temper. 

Marigold knew something about Rod — she 
had known it ever since yesterday, when she had 
gone into the post-office alone, while Mary was 
doing another errand. So she knew something 
that Mary did not. 

Her present trouble was that she felt it her 
duty to remonstrate with Rod. Anything that 
was not fair to mamma ought to be stopped, if 
possible, at whatever risk of unpleasantness to 
herself. 

She had tried to plan the gentlest and easiest 
way of leading up to the subject ; but perhaps 
she was a little too anxious about it, or else she 
got nervous as the time grew short, — for she 
made a mistake after all. 

The beginning was all right, when she asked 
Rod if he would not go with them after luncheon 
to gather fir balsam for their pillows. A 
boy and his jack-knife, she hinted persuasively. 


MARIGOLD 


129 


would make a very useful addition to their 
party. 

But Rod refused rather shortly, saying he had 
something else to do that afternoon ; and when 
she ventured, her heart beating a little fast, to 
ask what, answered still more curtly, “ Never 
you mind.” 

At that a color crept into Marigold’s cheeks 
that was not all of embarrassment, and it was 
then she became flurried and said the wrong 
thing. 

‘‘Rod — you know how nervous mamma is 
about boats. Do you think you ought — ” and 
then he interrupted, and the carefully planned 
remonstrance turned suddenly into something 
else. 

“What are you talking about?” he asked, 
sharply. “ I haven’t said anything about boats.” 

“ You have, too I ” she retorted, startled by the 
anger in his tone, but promptly resenting it also, 
and ready to defend herself “You were talking 


1^0 MARIGOLD 

to that horrid Renshaw boy in the post-office, 
and you said — ” 

“ And you hung 'round and listened, did 
you ? " Rod broke in, hotly. “ Well, I didn't 
think you were that kind of a girl ! And I tell 
you what. Marigold, if you will just kindly 
mind your own affairs, you'll be in a lot better 
business than spying on mine ! " 

“ What do you mean. Rod Merington ? " 
blazed Marigold. ‘‘You know I don't spy! If 
you talk secrets in the middle of the post-office, 
how can anybody help hearing? It must have 
been something you were ashamed of, or you 
wouldn't be so afraid of my knowing about it, 
anyway ! " she finished, scathingly. 

The battle was on, now ! For two minutes 
more there was a hot exchange of wild and angry 
words. 

Poor little Mary, unused to quarrelling, and 
frightened and distressed beyond measure, tried 
in vain to stop them with her gentle pleading. 


MARIGOLD I3I 

Oh, Marigold, don’t ! He didn’t mean it, — 
did you. Rod ? ” 

Neither of them paid the slightest attention to 
her, and Mary felt very much as though she had 
been caught up in a whirlwind without a mo- 
ment’s warning. 

But in a few moments more, the*storm was 
over as suddenly as it had begun. Marigold 
flung away with a last parting shot of bitterness 
and scorn, and rushed up-stairs to the refuge of 
her own room, while Rod stalked out of doors, 
hands in his pockets to show his lofty indiffer- 
ence, and an expression of stern wrath on his face 
to contradict it. 

Mary, in sympathetic desperation between the 
two, flew after Marigold, giving Rodney up as a 
bad job. 

She found her twin in a state of high excite- 
ment, but not crying as she had feared. Mari- 
gold was still too angry for the relief of tears ; 
what she wanted was not consolation, but simply 


132 


MARIGOLD 


a chance to pour out her wrath and grievance to 
a sympathizing listener, and she overwhelmed 
the gentle little sister with almost as violent 
an outburst as the first, down-stairs, had been. 

Marigold had not been so angry since the days 
when she was Mary Murray, squabbling with 
her Murr^ brothers and the neighborhood chil- 
dren, who played in the gravel-pits in McGowan’s 
Lane. 

In this last happy year among sweet-tempered, 
gentle-mannered people there had been little oc- 
casion for anger; and it had been so long since 
she had had a fit of passion that she had quite 
forgotten the blind, stifling pain of it. But it 
had come upon her now with cruel suddenness 
as her naturally warm temper sprang into a blaze 
under the sharp provocation of Rodney’s unjust 
blame. 

Half of her passion, no doubt, was really grief 
and disappointment at the downfall of her hopes. 
She liked Rod and admired him so much, and 


MARIGOLD 


133 


had been so happy in their growing comradeship, 
— eleven years old was so proud and flattered by 
the notice and liking of fifteen years old ! 

And now everything was all spoiled. Rod 
didn t like her, at all ! He said she was a spy, 
and that girls were always mean and prying — 
had requested her to mind her own business in 
future and let him alone, and had even made an 
insulting reference to dolls ! 

Marigold never had cared much about playing 
with dolls, — and at this moment she was ready 
to trample all the dolls in the world under her 
feet. 

Mary understood, of course, that Marigold was 
not angry with her ; but that knowledge did not 
make it much more comfortable to be scolded at 
so violently ; and after sympathizing and sooth- 
ing until she was at her wits' end, she eagerly 
welcomed a diversion, though it came in an 
unwelcome form. 

With ready tact she made the most of it. 


134 


MARIGOLD 


“ My goodness ! ” She was at the window, 
and it was a cautious whisper, but full of dismay. 
‘‘ Here are visitors — a whole carriageful^ — com- 
ing in at the gate ! And we were to have 
luncheon an hour early because I am going to 
the dentist with mamma. Do you s’pose they’ll 
stay long ? ” 

The diversion was successful. It turned Mar- 
igold’s thoughts from the late unpleasantness, 
and she came over to the window to scowl at the 
unconscious ladies in the buckboard. 

“ Prob’ly,” she answered, gloomily. 

It was a very sober-faced pair of twins that 
appeared in the dining-room when luncheon was 
announced ; but as soon as the first embarrassing 
moment of entering and being noticed by the vis- 
itors was over they began to feel it a relief, after 
all, to have so many people there : for in the 
pleasant confusion of talk and laughter among 
the elders nobody was likely to notice that some- 
thing was wrong with the children. 


MARIGOLD 135 

Rodney was there, of course ; but, of course, 
also, he behaved himself, and neither mamma nor 
the guests noticed that he and Marigold were not 
on speaking terms or that she went without salt 
rather than ask him for it. 

I don't know which of the three children was 
most uncomfortable during the meal, the two 
cross ones, or their innocent victim, Mary, who 
tried to talk to both by turns and met with no 
success in either direction. 

The poor child began to look forward to her 
dreaded visit to the dentist with positive pleasure. 
She would be away, alone with dear mamma, all 
the afternoon — and an afternoon is a long, long 
time; it was not necessary to look beyond it — 
troubles would smooth themselves out somehow. 

Marigold also was thinking of the long after- 
noon ahead, but with very different feelings. It 
seemed so unlucky and so disagreeable that to-day, 
of all days, she and Rod should be left together 
“ to keep house,” as mamma had said gaily — 


MARIGOLD 


136 

little guessing how little pleasure the two house- 
keepers felt in the prospect. 

Silently Marigold determined to do nothing of 
the kind — unless, that is, she should be directly 
told to do so. She had no intention of keep- 
ing house with Rodney a moment longer than 
appearances compelled her to. 

So, lonely as it seemed to have mamma and 
Mary gone for all those hours, there was a great 
relief to Marigold in the thought of being alone 
— of rushing off somewhere, away from every- 
body, herself included if possible — of not having 
to talk to company, to look pleasant, to behave 
like a good proper child. Her plans were already 
laid, and her place of refuge chosen. 

And Rodney seemed to have a like idea ; 
for as soon as luncheon was over he quietly took 
himself off, no one knew when or whither. 

The guests departed, and then immediately 
after it was time for the others to start for their 


tram. 


MARIGOLD 137 

When it came to the point Mary, was almost 
ready to cry. It seemed so selfish to be going 
away to the dentist and leaving poor unhappy 
Marigold alone. 

Mamma too felt sorry for the little girl left 
behind, and just before she stepped into the car- 
riage she brought out a little parting surprise,’* 
to brighten the downcast little face, — a pretty 
pink box full of marshmallows. 

It did brighten — Marigold made a brave 
effort to be pleasant. She kissed them both 
and smiled and waved good-by as they drove 
away. 

Then she turned and flew up-stairs in a tre- 
mendous hurry, lest any of the maids should see 
and ask her where she was going. 

Not that she believed it wrong to go — but if 
any one even knew where she was it would spoil 
the feeling she craved, of being hidden away from 
all the world. 


CHAPTER XL 


When Rodney slipped away from the house 
so promptly after luncheon he had something of 
that same feeling. 

He very much preferred to be alone, and 
thought it would be wise to disappear before 
there was any chance of being hampered by a 
more definite reference to the “ housekeeping,” 
or request to stay with Marigold — and then 
there were other reasons, too. 

He was going out sailing, as Marigold had 
inferred — Renshaw and the new fellows at the 
hotel. They were going out around the islands, 
— a longer cruise than usual ; and there would be 
an extra jolly time. 

It seemed best, as it had seemed so many times 

before, to say nothing at home of this engage- 
138 


MARIGOLD 


139 


ment. If nobody knew, nobody would be wor- 
ried. On that account also it was well to be out 
of reach of any more of Marigold’s inconvenient 
questions. 

The habit of concealment was growing on Rod 
pretty fast ; but he could not learn to be com- 
fortable in it. He might argue with himself that 
he was old enough to use his own judgment, — 
that women knew nothing about boats, — and 
that anyway Aunt May had never told him not 
to go out — but he was too honest a boy by 
nature to be satisfied with this sort of thing, or 
not to feel mean in doing things he did not wish 
to have known. 

So the new habits (which nevertheless did grow 
upon him) chafed his conscience, and made him 
irritable with his little cousins when they were 
perfectly innocent of any offence. 

The difference between the two children showed 
in this, — that while Mary was grieved by his 
snubs. Marigold was wroth, and often answered 


140 


MARIGOLD 


sharply in kind. So the quarrel of this morning 
had not been the first occasion of strife. 

But if not the first, it was the worst ; the pre- 
vious spats had been trifling in comparison. And 
when Rod tucked a book into his pocket and 
strode off down the old abandoned road that led 
out to Ship Head he was feeling almost as an- 
grily excited as Marigold, and wasted a good deal 
of trouble in telling himself many times what 
himself already quite believed — that girls were 
nuisances ! 

He was bound for a pleasant place which he 
had discovered for himself, and where, therefore, 
he might hope to be entirely private, — a little 
niche high up on the seaward cliffs of Ship Head, 
with a beautiful broad outlook over the outlying 
ledges and the open sea beyond. 

It was quite invisible from the shore-path 
above it, and too far away to be noticed by any 
one looking shoreward from out on the point of 
rocks. This fact alone was enough to give it 


MARIGOLD 


I4I 

charm in a boy's eyes, but the difficulty and risk 
of climbing down to it over the sheer rock-wall 
completed its fascination. 

Rod secretly christened it the Smuggler's Cave, 
and had spent many pleasant hours reading in 
the cozy little nook, shaped like a big armchair 
facing the ocean. 

To-day the place had still another advantage. 
Renshaw and the rest were to bring the yacht 
around from Long Beach and pick him up at the 
Cove. From his perch he could see them as they 
rounded the headland, half a mile away, and 
would have plenty of time to get down to the 
landing-place and meet them. 

As he settled himself comfortably and opened 
his book — the hair-raising adventures of some 
youngster on a whaler in the Arctic — he glanced 
out and was vexed to see that along the horizon 
lay a long low bank of pearly white cloud. 

That meant fog outside. If it should come in 
by and by — and it might very likely, for the 


142 


MARIGOLD 


wind was ‘‘out east'* — there would bean end 
to the island cruise. Provoking ! 

H owever, Renshaw had probably set sail by 
now, — he was just fool enough to start in the 
face of a fog, — and they could have some fun 
just running alongshore before the weather could 
change. So ho ! for the gales of the North At- 
lantic — the floe and the berg and the cold, low- 
circling sun ! 

And Marigold — what of her ? 

Ten minutes after the carriage with mamma 
and Mary had driven away, the house was empty 
of Marigold also — empty with a completeness 
that held no promise of her early return. 

Her one conscious purpose had been to get 
away from Rodney, — out of sight, and hearing, 
and memory even, — but her unconscious idea 
was, I think, to escape from her anger itself, as 
well as from the cause of it. 

She longed, even in the midst of the whirling 
thoughts, which dwelt so persistently on the 


MARIGOLD 143 

quarrel, to be done with wrath, — to come to 
that quiet after-time, when the fire of anger should 
have burned itself away, having only a weary 
calm in its cooling ashes. 

She was not wise enough to hasten this time 
by resolutely turning her thoughts away from 
the quarrel, and forcing herself to think of 
pleasanter things instead ; but she did the next 
best thing when, driven by a blind instinct, she 
sought the most beautiful place she knew, where 
things outside herself would draw her attention 
to themselves without her own effort, and give 
her time to forget, or at least to think more 
calmly of her troubles. 

But as she flew along the shore-path, toward 
Ship Head, in as desperate a hurry as though 
she feared to be followed or called back, her 
cheeks still burned, and her heart throbbed 
wildly with the misery of resentful thoughts. 

Howr^«/<^he? He had no right — no right! 
They had been such good friends until last 


144 


MARIGOLD 


week, — she had thought they were real chums, 

— and now it was all over. She would never 
forgive him — never ! And the same miserable 
thoughts followed each other around and around, 
as she stumbled in her blind haste over the 
rocky path out to her favorite nook, far out on 
the point of rocks that ran out from the Head 

— to the ‘‘Anemone Pool,** where she meant 
to hide herself from the world. 

Both arms were full, and that made it still 
harder to keep her balance as she sprang from 
rock to rock, — for even in her excitement 
she had forgotten none of the things need- 
ful or desirable for the solitary hours before 
her. 

It was as though one part of her, quite 
outside the bitter, angry part, had thought and 
planned for the comfort and entertainment of 
that other self, taking care to provide all that 
could coax her out of her trouble, and make 
her happy again. 


MARIGOLD 


145 


There was the book of fairy stories, if she 
should cool off enough by and by to want 
it, — the little pink box of marshmallows, which 
she would certainly want, cool or not, — her 
own gaily painted tin pail for collecting treas- 
ures, — and above all else, there was the gray 
shawl, cumbersome to carry, but indispensable 
for making camp. 

“ The gray shawl was really an institution 
in the family. It was older than mamma her- 
self, and had been her mother’s before her. 
It was an old-fashioned long shawl, heavy and 
warm and soft, — the most comfortable thing 
in the world, in spite of faded color and worn- 
out fringes. 

It was by turns a shawl, a tent, a robe, a 
carpet, the sail of imaginary Viking ships, and 
the roof of countless playhouses. Mamma 
often declared she “ could not keep house 
without it,” and to the children it was like a 
dear old friend. With the big clumsy bundle 


146 


MARIGOLD 


hugged in both her arms, Mangold could not 
feel quite unfriended or comfortless. 

She made her little camp — still with that 
queer sense of taking care of the other wretched 
Marigold — beside the Anemone Pool. 

A smooth, sloping rock made a convenient 
couch on the brink of the little chasm, where 
one could lie at ease and watch all the pretty 
things and the interesting doings in its clear, 
sun-lit depths. 

One-half of the gray shawl provided rug 
and pillow, and the other end sheltered her 
cozily from that fresh little breeze out of the 
eastern horizon. 

With her face close to the surface of the 
water, her cloud of brown hair shutting out 
the reflection of the sky, it was almost as 
though she were actually down in the Anemone 
Pool, among all the lovely things that filled 
it — the swinging brown bubbles of the rock- 
weed, curtaining dark recesses of the rocks 


MARIGOLD 


147 


with its swaying fringes — little, delicate, pink 
and white coral branches — the green and crim- 
son ribbo-ns of the smaller weeds — green quaker- 
caps and purple mussels, clinging to the walls — 
a cross-faced crab sidling along a shelf of rock 
— and, rarest and most charming of all, the 
anemones, each with its wreath of exquisite, 
living fringe, olive and golden and mottled 
brown, waiting motionless in the still water for 
the rising tide to bring their food. 

But Marigold knew how to wake them up. 
A shell or pebble dropped skilfully and ex- 
actly into the centre of the wreath would do 
it ; the delicate ruffled tissues would begin at 
once to waver and curl slowly inward to enfold 
the intruding object, lest, mayhap, it should 
prove to be an unexpected dinner. 

It was a fascinating game to play, because 
it was so difficult to drop the pebble or peri- 
winkle exactly into the open mouth. They 
were apt to wobble or twist as they sank through 


148 MARIGOLD 

the water, and twice out of three times would 
miss the anemone altogether. 

As Marigold hung over them, concentrating 
her whole mind upon the business, the frowning 
gloom on her face was lighting little by little 
into a much more natural and pleasant expres- 
sion of intent interest. 

When she was tired of lying still, she took 
her little pail and started off to fill it with the 
pretty little snail-like shells which Ellen, the 
English maid, had taught the children to call 
periwinkles. 

They dotted the rocks by hundreds, clinging 
to the wet, dark walls and crevices behind the 
wet masses of rockweed ; and one of the little 
girfs favorite occupations was to hunt for the 
prettiest stripes and brightest colors among them, 
— pale yellow, orange, purple, and creamy white. 
There was no end to their variations. 

Marigold had a special object in gathering 
them, and she worked diligently to fill her pail ; 


MARIGOLD 


149 


for they were intended (properly boiled and 
cleaned) as gifts to Maggie Ready and Nellie 
Donovan, along with the rest of the treasure- 
trove saved up for the great day of that first 
return to McGowan’s Lane. 

The pleasant business of filling the pail kept 
her busy and contented for a good while, perch- 
ing and peering among the rocks, as quick and 
alert as some little beach bird hunting for its 
food. 

Up in his eyrie on the cliff, Rodney, glancing 
up from his book, caught sight of a distant flutter 
of bright colors, and frowned impatiently as he 
recognized them. 

The pale blue spot, — that was the frock Mari- 
gold had worn at luncheon-time. The blot of 
white above it must be her warm little knitted 
sweater; and above this again was a gleam of 
light which a painter might have touched in 
with a dab of burnt sienna, and which could be 
nothing but Marigold’s curly mop of copper- 


150 MARIGOLD 

brown hair. It was almost too far away to see 
it at all, but Rodney's eyes were keen. 

They were rather sulky, too, as he dropped 
them on his book again and sternly turned his 
shoulder from the far-away flutter of blue and 
white. 

‘‘ Little fool ! " he muttered. “ She's no busi- 
ness out there alone, with the tide rising. But 
she can look out for herself ; she's plenty well 
able to take care of her own affairs — and other 
people's, too ! " 

Of course this reasoning did not satisfy his 
conscience — it merely gratified his temper. He 
knew perfectly well that if Marigold was careless 
of her own safety he had to look out for her, 
and that he was going to do it. But this knowl- 
edge only made him “ madder " than before, and 
he buried himself again in his story, fervently 
hoping that the little fool would come to her 
senses before it should become necessary for him 
to sacrifice his dignity by going to warn her. 


MARIGOLD 


I5I 

At least he would put it off as long as possible. 
There was plenty of time yet before the tide 
would rise high enough to cover her path to the 
shore ; and a little scare would do her good, 
anyhow 1 

So he read on, glancing up occasionally to see 
where she was, and trying hard not to feel 
uncomfortable about her. What a plague girls 
were ! 


CHAPTER XII. 


It was true enough that Marigold had no 
business to be out there alone. 

Such a thing had never happened before ; and 
if the idea had entered any one’s head that one 
of the inseparable ‘‘ twins ” would go so far with- 
out the other, of course it would have been 
forbidden. 

But this was a day when a good many things 
were happening that never happened before ; and 
everybody was likely to be surprised before it 
ended. 

Rodney’s turn was coming next. 

When she had had enough of shell hunting 
for the time, Marigold returned to her shawl- 
nest by the pool. 

Rod saw the blue and white speck in thei 
152 


MARIGOLD 153 

distance drop down and suddenly become invisi- 
ble — for the gray shawl was almost the color of 
the rocks around it — then, satisfied that he knew 
where to find her when the time came, he began 
to give more attention to his wild arctic ad- 
ventures. 

His boat had just been crunched like a peanut 
shell between the jaws of a terrific fighting whale, 
and he was struggling, the wounded second mate 
in one arm, to climb the huge, slippery side of 
the dying monster. 

This was naturally an absorbing business, and 
for a long time he forgot to raise his eyes to note 
the rise of the tide. 

But suddenly, in the midst of the whale’s last 
flurry, something — perhaps the increasing damp- 
ness and chill in the air, or the slight dimness 
creeping over the sun — made him look up as he 
turned a leaf. 

Long afterward Rodney found ‘‘ Chasing the 
Bowhead ” lying face downward among the rocks 


154 


MARIGOLD 


half-way down the cliff, its covers warped and 
blistered, and its crumpled pages sodden into a 
solid mass by many easterlies and sea-turns. 

But almost before it struck the ground he too 
was half-way down the cliff, jumping and scram- 
bling by short cuts which he never before had 
imagined possible. All his lofty dignity and 
reluctance to go call Marigold had disappeared ; 
he was in frantic haste to reach her. 

Already, between him and the rock where she 
lay, thin, faint, almost invisible wisps of white 
mist were stealing. They stole across the sky, 
too, and made the sunlight pale and chill. The 
fog was coming in ! 

One could see hardly a hundred yards of water 
outside the point. It grew dim and vanished 
into the whiteness, yard by yard, with terrible 
swiftness. Where were her eyes, not to see it ? 

She was still lying serenely intent on whatever 
it was she was doing, evidently quite unconscious 
of either of the dangers that were creeping toward 


MARIGOLD 


155 


her. Rodney shouted her name and plunged 
recklessly over rocks and weed in an agony 
of haste. 

Meanwhile, Marigold had grown quite tranquil 
and oblivious of all troubles, past or present. 

It would seem that her instinct had chosen the 
best cure for her disturbed mind. The great 
peaceful solitude, the beauty of everything, great 
and small, around her, and the wonderful inter- 
est, which never failed, in the tiniest forms of 
life and movement, had soothed her wild wrath 
and wretchedness to sleep. She forgot Rodney 
and his offences, forgot the whole world be- 
side, and saw and felt and thought only of that 
brimming pool of liquid crystal and the living 
wonders in it. 

She had teased the anem.ones until she really 
felt a little ashamed of bothering them so for her 
own pleasure. Her regrets came too late, how- 
ever, — she had shut them all up, and now each 
anemone was hunched into a sulky lump of 


MARIGOLD 


156 

leathery green or brown, vainly trying to digest 
his periwinkle ; while the crab, who was not of an 
amiable or sociable disposition even at his best, 
had long since backed himself in high dudgeon 
into a deep cranny, whence she had no stick long 
enough to poke him out. 

So now she had turned her attention to another 
daily marvel, which never lost its charm for her, 
and was watching the barnacles ‘‘ wake up for 
dinner,” as the tide rose. It was running into 
the pool by now, and tier after tier, as the cold 
pure flood rushed over them at each wave, they 
opened their “covers” (as Marigold called the 
little shell-valves that topped each barnacle) and 
pushed out the exquisite, delicate, little black 
feathers, turning all together as the wave passed 
by, then softly closing like the fingers of a hand, 
and curling inward and downward to carry the 
invisible food into the shell. 

Marigold’s little nose was within an inch of 
the water ; sky and sea alike were shut out from 



“ HERE CAME THE ARCH OFFENDER, RODNEY.” 



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MARIGOLD 


157 


her sight ; and she did not notice that the weed- 
fringed corners of her fairy-land were darkening 
ever so little. 

But suddenly, in the midst of this peaceful 
nature study,” she was shocked back to a sense 
of her surroundings by the wild shout of Mari- 
gold ! MarigoXdi ! ” — and as she lifted her head, 
a little dizzy and confused from stooping, here 
came the arch-offender, Rodney, with whom she 
had parted in such furious rage an hour or two 
ago, rushing down upon her over the rocks ! 

He seized her by the arm and pulled her to 
her feet with one hand, catching up the gray 
shawl with the other. Come quick ! Are 
you crazy ? The fog — the tide ! ” he panted, 
breathless. 

Then she saw ! 

She had been cautioned and instructed and 
exhorted too often against the danger of ever 
forgetting the tide, while at play, not to recog- 
nize that peril with instant panic ; but the other. 


158 MARIGOLD 

the swift-stealing fog, she did not for the first 
moment understand. 

In conscience-stricken haste she snatched up 
her book and the precious pail of shells, and 
let Rodney pull her along toward the shore. 

The first few yards were easy — the girl was as 
alert and sure-footed as the boy, and they sprang 
from rock to rock, steadied by each other's hands, 
while Rod counted each foot gained with anx- 
ious eyes. 

The tide was not yet high enough to cut them 
off from shore — had that been all, his delay 
would not have been too long. 

But the still, white cloud came creeping on. 
Thin veils of it were sweeping between them and 
the cliffs, and every moment the safe and friendly 
dry land loomed fainter and farther away. 

“If it gets too thick — before we reach the 
red rocks — we must give it up. We can’t — * 
make it ! ” Rodney panted. 

“Give it up ? — and drown?'" gasped Mari- 


MARIGOLD 159 

gold. The gasp would have been a wail if she 
had had enough breath left. 

“No, of course not!” He clutched her 
sharply as her foot slipped. “ But if we can’t 
see^ we’ll lose our way, — don’t you understand ? 
And we’ve got no time to lose it ! We’ll head 
for the Castle — nearer than the shore. It’s our 
best chance.” 

It was the only chance 1 In a moment more 
the cliffs had vanished — blotted out, together 
with the whole solid world of terra firma. They 
two, and the fog, and the wet rocks and weed be- 
neath their feet — these were all that existed now ! 

But they knew the Castle Rock was not far 
away ; and the path to it, by the red rocks and 
the granite ledge, and all the other well-known 
landmarks, was plainly marked, and so familiar 
to them both that they sped over it more by 
instinct than by sight. Soon their feet were on 
dry rocks above the level of the treacherous 
weed, and only a sharp scramble up the rough 


l5o MARIGOLD 

“ staircase ” lay between them and safety on a 
broad ledge which they called “ the Knights’ 
Hall ” of the Castle. 

Only a dozen feet, perhaps, — but that is 
plenty of space for the “ slip ’twixt cup and lip.” 

It was Rodney who made it. Probably his 
shoes were slippery from the wet jelly-weed over 
which they had come. At any rate, as he poised 
himself to pitch the rolled-up shawl up to a half- 
way point, the slip came. He half-recovered, 
slipped again, caught vainly at Marigold’s quickly 
outstretched hand, and then to her amazement 
he suddenly crumpled up and went down in a 
heap, and stayed there ! 

The lofty and superior Rodney, coming so 
magnanimously to the rescue of the foolish, 
helpless girl, who hadn’t sense enough to look 
out for herself, — there he sat, limp and use- 
less, grasping his foot with both hands, and 
biting his lips till they were white, to keep 
back the groans of pain. 


MARIGOLD 


l6l 


And the foolish and helpless one, the dis- 
tressed damsel, whom he was supposed to be 
rescuing P She was kneeling beside him, her 
strong little arms around him to help him up, 
pouring out her anxious questions. Was it 
his foot or his ankle? Was it so dreadfully 
bad ? Oh, it couldn’t be broken^ could it ? 

As he looked around him and realized this 
last, worst scrape of all, I think that neither 
the pain nor the danger were so bitter to Rod- 
ney in that moment as the humiliation of defeat. 

“I don’t know — and I don’t care!” he 
responded between clenched teeth to her last 
inquiry. ‘‘It’s done for, — that’s all I know.” 
His own mind was balancing the pleasant alter- 
natives of sprain and dislocation. It hurt 
enough for either. 

“You go on — you can’t stay here — the 
water’ll be here in a jiffy — go on up; I’ll 
come as soon as I can move 1 ” he ordered 
disjointedly, between silent spasms of pain. 


i 62 


MARIGOLD 


Go on up! If he had said “ Fly ashore/* 
Marigold would have been quite as likely to 
obey him. She was a gallant little lass, and 
the idea of deserting a helpless comrade to save 
herself appealed to her very much as it would 
to a manly boy of Rod*s own age. 

She waited silently for a few moments, her 
strong, helpful grasp still around his shoulders. 
Then she spoke, very quietly : 

‘‘ I think that last wave came a little higher. 
Rod. Do you believe, if you turn ’round, you 
could creep on your hands and knees, just to 
that first step ? ” 

The question of leaving him was simply not 
worth discussing ; she ignored it. 

He recognized the chivalry of her spirit, and 
accepted it without more words. He recognized, 
too, that it made the strongest call upon him 
for all the courage he could muster ; for he 
could not keep her waiting there while he nursed 
his hurt, and the water rose inch by inch. 


MARIGOLD 


163 


So he shut his teeth tighter still, and the long 
and painful journey of three yards was accom- 
plished as she had suggested, on hands and 
knees. 

But then came the climb up the ragged cleft 
formed by the wearing away of some softer 
vein in the basalt, and dignified by the chil- 
dren with the title of “ the Grand Staircase.’’ 

In his ordinary mode of progress, it took 
Rodney about ten seconds to mount it, but 
to-day, with all the help Marigold’s strength 
could give, it was nearer ten minutes ; and when 
half-way up he gave out entirely, sat himself 
down, and announced his determination to meet 
his fate then and there — she could do as she 
pleased. 

Her only answer was to laugh, and set her 
slender little shoulder under his arm, as she 
perched below him — and with a sigh of resig- 
nation he submitted to be saved in spite of 
himself. 


164 


MARIGOLD 


When they reached the Knights’ Hall at last, 
and sank on the floor, to rest and pant for 
breath, Rodney was pale and faint with suffering, 
and Marigold deeply flushed by her exertions. 
She had really borne almost half his weight. 

But she only rested for a moment ; then 
she was up again, anxiously watching the waves, 
breaking and boiling now around the base of 
the great, isolated pyramid of rock. 

“ Do you s’pose we are all right here ? ” she 
asked doubtfully, after a few minutes’ silence. 
She had just felt a fleck of spray on her cheek ; 
and yet how she hated to make him move again ! 

Rodney, however, knew as well as she that 
their refuge could be only a temporary one. In 
this light breeze the waves were not likely to 
reach them, even at full tide, but the floods of 
spray shooting straight up from the sheer wall 
of rock below them, as each wave struck, would 
be almost as bad. 

Up higher, nearly to the turrets of the castle. 


MARIGOLD 


165 

was another smaller nook, known as the “ Lady's 
Bower,” which faced southeast and was shielded 
from the wind by a huge parapet on the weather 
side. 

Up there — if only Rodney could get so far! 
— they would be not only safe, but warm and 
sheltered, compared to their present perch, facing 
the spray and the northeast wind. 

And comfort was a consideration, almost as 
much as safety ; for there was a long afternoon 
before them. 

They were both thinking of that, when Mari- 
gold asked, ‘‘ How long before the tide turns ? ” 
and Rod looked at his watch and answered, 
“ Two hours yet.” 

“ And twice two is four ! ” she sighed. 

There was no denying it. Rodney responded 
only by echoing her sigh. 

But then he pulled himself together. 

“ Well, come along,” he said, grimly. “ It's 
no worse one time than another. Here's your 


MARIGOLD 


1 66 

shawl, — do drop that pail! What’s the use 
of bothering with that?” 

She made no answer, but she set the little 
pail carefully in a niche high out of harm’s 
way, before she gave him her arm for the first 
of the difficult steps which led up and around 
the castle wall. 

It was a hard test for the boy’s fortitude, 
that last dozen feet. When the Bower was 
reached, he flung himself at full length on the 
rock floor, quite spent with the pain of his 
injury, and lay so for a little while, staring 
silently into the fog, with clenched teeth, till 
the pain should subside a little. 

Presently he felt light touches on his ankle and 
turned to find Marigold unlacing his boot. 

Of course he protested, sat up, and did it him- 
self, and the immediate relief that followed made 
him very willing to submit meekly to the further 
ministrations of his little nurse. 


CHAPTER XIII. 


‘‘We must bind it up nice and smooth, and 
then keep it wet and cool,'* she said confidently ; 
but her eyes were wandering in some perplexity 
over her frock in search of something detachable 
for a bandage. Then her glance fell on Rod’s 
long tie, and she pounced on it without ceremony. 

With the fold opened out it answered the pur- 
pose very nicely ; and to moisten it with water 
from the nearest pool of spray was an easy mat- 
ter. 

Next, her patient attended to. Marigold set 
about making them both as comfortable as the 
case would allow. 

The Bower was quite a snug little place, with 

an almost level floor, and well sheltered on three 

sides from wind and spray by its high battlements 
167 


MARIGOLD 


1 68 

of solid rock ; but these could not keep out the 
fog, which folded them in, denser and colder 
every minute. 

But Marigold was a true little woman, with all 
the woman's instinct for making homelike any 
spot on earth where she happened to find herself ; 
and she made her little arrangements with swift 
decision, neither consulting Rodney’s wishes nor 
asking his consent. 

First she shook out the gray shawl to its full 
length and draped it over her head. Next she 
curled herself down beside him as he lay, leaned 
back comfortably against the rock wall behind 
her, and lifted his head into her lap ; and then in 
another moment Rodney found himself tucked 
all around with the warm soft folds of the old 
shawl, his head nicely pillowed, and surrounded 
by a sudden twilight. 

One narrow peep-hole between the folds of the 
shawl let in a little light, and not much fog; and 
there they were, shut into a cosy little tent, warm 


MARIGOLD 169 

and dry, with all the cold and loneliness of dreary 
sky and sullen sea shut out. 

“Now we are all comfy, aren’t we?” purred 
Marigold, contented. 

He did not answer, except by a vague murmur. 
Rodney was thinking ; and his thoughts were fast 
getting too much for him. It would not have 
been quite easy to speak at that moment. 

He was lying with his face turned away so 
that Marigold could not see it ; and he lay so 
still that she began to hope he might go to sleep 
if she kept quiet. 

But by and by she became aware that, whether 
he was asleep or not, her foot was ; and in chang- 
ing her position to relieve it, she slipped one 
hand under Rod’s cheek to lift his head. 

And then she stopped and sat motionless, 
staring down at the rough, dark curls in her lap 
with an astonishment that was almost fright. The 
cheek was wet ! 

Rodney I — big, handsome, masterful Rod, who 


170 MARIGOLD 

lorded it over the little cousins, and whom, 
in spite of his faults, they looked up to and admired 
so ardently — Rodney, crying ! 

The shock of the discovery made Marigold’s 
heart give a sudden great thump, and then a slow 
hard squeeze that took her breath away. 

She had almost cried out in the first surprise of 
it, but checked herself in time, and bent over him 
very gently, speaking almost in a whisper. 

“What is it. Rod? Does the poor foot ache 
so dreadfully ? ” she murmured. 

“Oh, no, — it isn’t that, — it’s everything, all 
together ! ” he choked out ; and then, his self- 
control lost in the effort of speaking, he broke 
down completely, — flung himself over, burying 
his face in the hospitable lap, and sobbed out- 
right. 

Everything all together — I suppose that was 
just it. Fifteen-year-old manly dignity doesn’t 
break down and cry for mere pain alone, though 
it was severe and he was tired out with bearing it 


MARIGOLD 1 71 

silently. But, as I said, Rodney had been doing 
some pretty serious thinking as he lay so still 
there, staring into the fog. 

Having your own way was not the happiest 
way of spending a summer after all. In fact, for 
many days past it had been constant discomfort 
instead — sometimes sheer misery ; for Rod was 
too much a gentleman at heart not to see plainly 
that his own way was not the way of a gentleman ; 
and the little concealments and deceits had each 
left a sore spot like a burn on his conscience and 
his self-respect. 

He had defied the discomfort and tried to for- 
get it, — but still it was there, at the back of his 
mind. 

It had made him “ touchy and cross with the 
little girl cousins of whom he was really fond, 
and made him actually avoid the sweet aunt whom 
he dearly loved. And the realization of all these 
things came over him with a rush as he had to 
face the knowledge that to-day it had lain at the 


172 


MARIGOLD 


bottom of that unjust anger with Marigold which 
had so nearly cost her life ! 

And yet, after it all, how generous she had 
been ! How readily and freely she had met him 
more than half-way, forgetting her own perfectly 
just resentment and wounded pride, — thinking 
only how to help and care for him. 

They were bitter facts to face, but Rod was an 
honest boy, after all, and he faced them honestly, 
as he lay biting his lips and staring into the fog, 
while in spite of all his effort the silent tears came 
faster and faster. 

Perhaps he would still have got the better of 
them if Marigold had not found him out — for 
I think it was the kind, comforting little hand 
that pressed his cheek, and the pitying murmur 
of her voice that laid the last straw’s weight on 
the burden of his self-reproach, and made it 
too heavy to bear. 

The sobs would come, smother them as he 
might. So he lay, nearly smothering himself as 


MARIGOLD 


173 


well, while Marigold, after her first moment of 
scared surprise, patted and smoothed the tumbled 
locks, and cooed soothingly over him as if he 
had been a baby. The “little mother** habit 
was still strong in her. 

After awhile the sobs ceased, — Rod was 
getting hold of himself again. Then the long, 
broken breaths grew steady, and perfect silence 
followed. 

Neither of them knew how to break it. Rod- 
ney, of course, was sunk in the deepest depths 
of mortification and disgust at his weakness, and 
considering painfully how he was ever to lift his 
head from that friendly shelter and look Mari- 
gold in the face again. 

He wished she would say something, — any- 
thing, — she could usually talk fast enough. 

Presently, however, the difficulty settled itself; 
for as a restless movement of his head brought 
one tanned cheek into sight, the kind little hand 
that stroked his hair slipped down and softly. 


174 


MARIGOLD 


almost timidly, stroked the cheek instead. And 
then, very quickly, and to his own surprise, a 
bigger, browner hand went up and closed tight 
for a moment over the small one. 

After that there seemed to be no need of be- 
ginning with anything special — the beginning 
had been made ; and when he did speak it was 
quite easy to say the thing that came uppermost 
in his thoughts. 

“ I don't see what makes a little thing like you 
seem so much like a mother, — to a fellow twice 
her size ! " 

Marigold meditated. Perhaps it's because I 
feel like one," she said, at last. “ Down there, 
you seem just like Baby Joe." 

Her voice changed slightly on the last words. 

Nobody knew how much Marigold had missed 
Baby Joe. Not even twin Mary, sleeping beside 
her, and watching her with anxious fondness, 
had guessed at the tears that sometimes slipped 
down her cheek into the pillow when she woke 


MARIGOLD 175 

and missed the warm, heavy, little bedfellow 
that had snuggled up beside her a year ago. 

She had not cried for Larry Murray, nor 
for Johnnie and Tim. They were stepbrothers, 
and the step in their case was a pretty long 
one. 

But there is no such thing as a step-baby. A 
baby is just a baby ; and when he looks to you 
quite as much as to his mother for all his 
little wants and amusements, you simply have 
to love him, step or not, and no matter how 
heavy he is to lug about. 

The pain of missing him had worn away as 
the busy, happy months went by in her new 
home — but still when she thought of him there 
was a little pull at her heart. 

But she was brave, and resolutely pushed 
the thought away from her. This was not the 
time to be missing little Joe: it was Rodney 
who needed her just now. 

He, meantime, was bracing himself (as Mari- 


176 


MARIGOLD 


gold had done that morning) to a very difficult 
and unpleasant duty. When a gentleman has 
put himself in the wrong he should apologize ; 
but if the gentleman is only fifteen the apology 
comes hard. 

But it did come, — a little abrupt and awkward 
with the effort of getting it out at all. 

“ Say, Marigold, — you know what you said — 
when you got mad this morning — that I was up 
to something I was ashamed of — ” 

“ M-h-m ? she assented, questioning and re- 
assuring at once. 

“Well, you were all right I That is — you 
know — ” It was the hardest thing in the world 
for a boy to say, but Rod had good grit, and 
he blundered on. “ The thing I was up to 
then — maybe I wasn’t ashamed of it, but I 
ought to have been, — and I am now I ” 

The apology was out at last, and both of 
them felt relieved. Marigold hastened to meet 
his handsome acknowledgment half-way. 


MARIGOLD 


177 


“Yes, but \ wasn't all right — I was horrid, 
too,” she said, eagerly. “ I needn’t have got 
so mad. If I guessed something else was both- 
ering you, I ought — ” 

“ No, you oughtn’t,” persisted Rod, chival- 
rously anxious, now he was about it, to shoulder 
all the blame. “ No girl with any spunk would 
let a fellow speak to her like that ; and no fellow 
that wasn’t a chump would do it ! ” 

For a moment Marigold was silent. Her 
generous heart would gladly have spared him 
this self-abasement, but as she was too right- 
minded not to agree with him, and too honest 
to pretend she didn’t, there seemed to be nothing 
pleasant that she could say. 

But she went on thinking, and when she spoke 
it was right out of the middle of a thought. 

“But see here. Rod, — don’t you think we 
have sort of got into a habit, lately, of getting 
mad easier? I know / do. If we go on we 
sha’n’t be friends at all. S’pose we make a bar- 


178 


MARIGOLD 


gain now, not to squabble any more, no matter 
how each other acts.*’ 

All right — let’s not ! ” Rod agreed ; and the 
bargain was signed and sealed on the spot by a 
hearty squeeze of hands. 

After that. Rod began to feel more cheerful. 
His self-respect was restored and he could feel 
himself a gentleman once more, now that he had 
made honorable amends. 

He remained quiet for a little, enjoying the 
feeling of the caressing hand among his curls, and 
presently he murmured, his voice muffled in the 
folds of her skirt, “ You ‘cuddle’ a fellow as if 
he were a Maltese kitten ! ” 

She leaned over and smiled down into the half- 
hidden face. “ Kittens like to be cuddled,” she 
said, suggestively. 

There was a pause ; then — “ I guess,” said the 
muffled voice, in the reluctant tone of a confession, 
“ every fellow has times when he’d like a little 
ofit!^’ 


CHAPTER XIV. 


For a long time then they were both silent. 

Marigold sat, her chin resting in one hand, 
while the other went gently and steadily to and 
fro over the rough, dark hair, and gazing out 
absently into the white folds of the fog. 

She was thinking of Aunt Adelaide — pleasant, 
brisk, decisive, as she always saw her — and trying 
to imagine her “ cuddling anything or anybody ; 
kittens, or big, masterful, troublesome boys. 

She could not do it ; and after long and serious 
pondering she gave it up, and decided positively 
that the two ideas of Aunt Adelaide and petting 
simply would not go together. 

(She was right, in this. Rodney had not had 
so much petting since he was a baby as in this 
afternoon. No doubt that fact was a part of the 

179 


i8o 


MARIGOLD 


“ everything all together that had upset him 
so.) 

He was so still she again fancied him asleep 
until he surprised her by a sudden chuckle. 

“ It’s rather a joke on me, anyway,” he ex- 
plained. “ All the row was about nothing, after 
all — for of course they didn’t start. Great time 
we’d have had on the yacht in this weather.” 

“The yacht? ” she echoed, puzzled. She had 
quite forgotten it. And then the whole story 
came out. 

He made it a short one, and as matter-of-fact 
as possible ; for by this time he was feeling a 
natural reaction from the unaccustomed emotions 
of the afternoon ; and Marigold listened very 
quietly, too. 

But, open and true as her own nature was, she 
could not help feeling shocked; and Rodney 
winced as her honest eyes said so in spite of her 
silent lips. The story sounded bad enough to 
himself, — and seeing how it sounded to her made 


MARIGOLD 


l8l 


it worse ; so bad indeed that at the end he began 
to explain and defend himself a little — though 
she had said not a word of blame. 

He did honestly feel it a hardship that he 
should be deprived of all the pleasures of yachting, 
to save his aunt from what seemed to him such 
unreasonable worry; and he tried to make Mari- 
gold see it in that light also. If Aunt May would 
only get over that prejudice of hers, and not be 
so nervous — 

But at that point Marigold cut him short, 
rushing to mamma’s defence with all her charac- 
teristic impetuosity. 

‘‘ You don’t know anything about it. Rod ! 
When a person is really nervous about anything, 
like mamma about our getting drowned, she just 
cant help it, any more than — why, than you 
could, just now, when you were nervous ! ” 

She felt that it was a little ungenerous to bring 
that up again, — but the lightest breath of a hint 
that Mamma Merington could be unreasonable. 


i 82 


MARIGOLD 


or anything less than absolute perfection, was a 
treason that must be crushed instantly, with the 
first and heaviest weapon at hand. It sufficed. 

“Nervous — you call that being nervous?” 
said Rod, reflectively. “ I call it making a fool of 
myself. But I don’t know that I’m sorry now — 
You’re a good fellow. Marigold ! ” 

“ Why, of course it was ! ” she put in, hastily, 
ignoring the irrelevant end of his speech. “You 
didn’t know what you were doing it for, and 
you didn’t want to do it, and you couldn’t help 
doing it to save your life ! That’s being nervous.” 

“Is it? Well, we’ll let it go at that, — only 
I hope I shan’t get nervous again in a hurry ! 

“ Say, Marigold, I believe it’s getting lighter.” 

She saw that he wanted to get away from the 
subject, and she turned willingly to peer through 
the fog, which certainly did seem a little thinner. 
Black points of the outer ledges which had been 
quite invisible would loom faintly for a moment 
through the mist, only to vanish in a white 


MARIGOLD 183 

smother of breaking surf, and then white and 
black would both be lost again in a denser drift 
of fog. 

Suddenly Marigold clutched Rodney’s arm 
with a startled cry. 

“Look — look! A boat! What can it be 
doing there ? ” 

Rodney sat up and strained his eyes to follow 
her pointing finger ; but the fog had closed in 
again. 

He waited and watched in terror — for he 
understood the danger far better than she. A 
boat in here, among these rocks ! 

Presently came another sudden rift in the 
cloud, and, like a vision of some ghostly thing, 
they saw the boat ! 

Those on board must have lost their senses 
in utter panic, for there, close upon the roar- 
ing surf, her sails were up, and she was still 
moving slowly in the light breeze farther and 
farther into the dreadful danger. 


184 


MARIGOLD 


It was the Siren — Renshaw’s boat! Rod 
knew her instantly by the whiteness of the new jib. 

He struggled to his feet, reckless of pain 
and weakness, and screamed a frantic warning, 
waving them back with both arms. “ Go about ! 

m 

You’re on the Ledges! — the Ledges!” he 
yelled. 

For a moment longer they saw the yacht, and 
there was some confused movement among the 
black shadows which rnanned her, but what they 
were doing could not be made out ; and then 
the curtain of fog came down again and hid 
them. 

Had they seen him? Impossible to tell!' 
They could not have heard — the noise of the 
acres of broken water around them was one 
deep continuous roar, with none of the cadence 
of the waves upon a beach. No human voice 
could have carried half the distance. 

But at least they must have seen the loom 
of the Castle Rock, if not the black figures on 


MARIGOLD 185 

it. Had they gone about — or were they all 
quite mad ? 

The two on the rock waited in an agony of 
suspense for the next break in the fog. It 
came, clearer than before ; the wind was surely 
changing. Now! There she is — there, to the 
left, — don't you see? 

She was about where they had seen her last, 
but now her head was to the wind, and the sails 
were down. She was actually anchored — and 
within a dozen fathoms of the outmost ledge ! 

“‘Fools' luck!'" muttered Rodney, as he 
dropped, faint with mingled relief and pain, on 
the rock again. “ Pretty place to drop anchor 
as they could have picked out on the whole 
Atlantic coast ! " 

He watched for another glimpse, and after 
he had assured himself of their present safety, 
“ I hope they've got some grub aboard," he 
remarked, grimly, “for they are going to be 
late to dinner." 


i86 


MARIGOLD 


“ Yes, and so are we ! ’’ sighed Marigold. 

It was a fact of which she had been keenly 
conscious for some time, though she would not 
complain. But since Rod had introduced the 
subject — ‘‘ And I am so hungry now, I feel 
as if I could eat seaweed!” she confessed. “If 
only the old tide would hurry up and fall ! 
Or if we only had a fire to cook with 1 ” 

“We have got a fire. If we only had some 
dinner to cook with it, is the trouble,” returned 
Rod, morosely. 

“But Fve got the dinner F' cried Marigold, 
suddenly eager. “ Where’s your fire ? ” 

“ Where’s your dinner ? ” he parried. 

“You show me the fire, and I’ll show you 
the dinner ! ” declared Marigold, both hands 
behind her, her face all mischief and sparkle. 
The chance for any sort of activity after their 
long and tedious stillness roused her at once 
to her usual exuberance of spirits. 

Rodney gravely produced a box of matches. 


MARIGOLD 


187 


Marigold was too innocent to guess, as Dick 
Saunders had done, that a box of matches in one 
pocket implied a box of cigarettes in another; 
but Rod’s face burned as he turned it from 
her and began to search the crevices of the rock 
within reach for bits of driftwood. 

Marigold sprang up to help him, and when 
her back was turned, he hastily pulled out the 
little box and pitched it far out into the fog. 
And as he did it, he made a very solemn 
promise to himself not to do another thing 
this summer that he had to hide from Aunt 
May and the girls ! 

Getting nervous isn’t a bad thing sometimes. 

Marigold noticed nothing; she was absorbed 
in the search for fuel. Everything within touch 
of the fog, of course, was hopelessly damp ; but 
under the topmost layer of straw and dried 
seaweed were plenty of chips and fine stuff, 
dry and ready for use. 

Rodney’s experienced eye selected a suitable 


i88 


MARIGOLD 


niche within easy reach as he lay, with a deep 
crevice above it forming a natural chimney ; and 
by the time Marigold returned from her explo- 
rations and dropped an armful of nice dry 
bits beside him, he had started a tiny crack- 
ling red flame and a great cloud of thick 
white smoke under his little pile of straw and 
splinters. 

For a few minutes it seemed a choice, as Rod 
said, between staying there and being choked and 
jumping off and being drowned ; but soon the 
draught was started, and the smoke drew up the 
chimney as it ought, while the tiny flame grew big 
and strong and snapped noisily. 

“ There she goes ! said Rod with the deep, 
well-earned satisfaction of the man who has made 
a fire burn. ‘‘ Now bring on your soup and 
fish and roast beef!’* 

She brought them promptly — in the shape 
of the little tin pail which she had guarded so 
carefully in their flight to the Castle. Rod had 


MARIGOLD 189 

not thought of it afterward, but she had, and 
here it was. 

She held it out silently, waiting with pleased 
expectancy for his cry of joy and surprise. 

The surprise came: the joy did not. 

Snails I'' said Rod; and in that one word 
was such a world of disappointment and disgust 
that Marigold was quite overcome. 

She clasped the little pail in both arms, threw 
back her head, and laughed, — that laugh of 
Marigold’s that always set other people laughing, 
too, whether they saw the joke or not. 

“ They are not snails,” she protested, at last ; 
“ they are periwinkles, and they are good to 
eat ! They are lovely when they are hot ! ” 

“ Oh, they are ! Well, they don’t look it. 
Chew ’em right up, do you ? ” queried the skep- 
tical one. 

Do you chew up clam-shells ? ” she retorted, 
scornfully, as she knelt beside him, and emptied 
out her store upon the smooth, flat rock. 


190 


MARIGOLD 


The pail was of a businesslike size, and it was 
brimful. For any one who liked periwinkles, 
the prospect of dinner was certainly brightening. 

Now Marigold, with her empty pail, crept 
cautiously down the rock toward the highest of 
the spray-filled pools ; and, clinging, leaning, 
balancing dextrously, while Rodney watched her 
in helpless anxiety, at last by a sort of swallow’s 
dip she filled the pail and fled up the rocks 
just in time to escape a falling torrent of 
spray. 

“ There ! ” she said, breathless but trium- 
phant, dropping to her knees again by his side, 
and leaning to adjust the pail over the fire. 
“Now we make the water boil — and then we 
pop them in — and then — ” 

“ You eat ’em ! ” he finished for her, with 
marked emphasis on the pronoun. 

She thrust out her chin and made a quick 
little face at him. “We’ll see!” was all she 
said. 



RODNEY RESTING ON ONE ELBOW, FED THE FIRE WITH 

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MARIGOLD 


191 


Together they balanced their little camp- 
kettle, and braced it firmly with pieces of rock, 
and then Rodney, resting on one elbow, patiently 
fed the fire with little sticks and chips. Marigold 
looking on in rapt content, while the water first 
hissed, then purred, and at last bubbled cheerily, 
— but still his face wore a look of deep distrust. 

In went the “winkles” by handfuls, with 
a hiss and rush of steam. The gay paint on the 
little pail blistered and blackened in the flame ; 
the fire snapped and roared softly. 

Presently Rodney began to sniff the air with 
a perceptible increase of interest. “ I say,” he 
remarked, “ I hope they taste the way they 
smell ! ” and Marigold smiled wisely. 

A minute later she fished the hot pail skilfully 
off the fire, by means of a stick in each hand, 
and poured off the water. Then she set the dish 
before him, curled herself up comfortably at his 
head as he lay stretched before the blaze, and 
dinner was served. 


192 


MARIGOLD 


One big pin did duty for knives, forks, and 
spoons, and in a twinkling she had extracted the 
tiny spiral coil of meat, and presented it, on the 
point of the pin, to Rodney’s doubtful lips. 

If you never ate a periwinkle I am afraid I 
cannot give you any better description of the 
flavor than Rod’s. “ It’s like clams — and it 
isn’t ! ” he pronounced, after carefully consider- 
ing his first morsel ; but he opened his mouth 
very readily for the second. 

And Marigold was so charmed by his approval, 
and her mother-bird instinct so satisfied with the 
pleasure of feeding him, that she forgot all about 
herself until he asked suspiciously : “ Aren’t you 
going to eat any yourself — or are you ‘trying 
it on the dog ? ’ ” 

Marigold laughed, and after that he had to 
find a pin for himself. The dinner had passed 
the experimental stage. 

Of course I am not saying, you know, that 
periwinkles would be a delicacy if you could get 


MARIGOLD 


193 


oysters or scallops instead; but if you can’t — 
and if you are very hungry — 

And then, Rod and Marigold were very young. 
Neither of them had quite outgrown the omniv- 
orous age that eats violets and “ cheeses ” and 
blueberry blossoms and fern sprouts, and any- 
thing in the world that is eatable. 

The really natural youngster will eat whatever 
is not actually deadly ; at least he is willing to 
try it. When a well-trained child brings a new 
kind of berry for his mother’s inspection, asking 
eagerly, ‘‘ Is this good to eat ? ” he does not 
mean, at all, “ Does it taste good ? ” or “ Is 
there any possible reason for eating it ? ” but, 
simply, “ Will it do me any serious damage 
if I do eat it ? ” 

So Rodney and Marigold ate their snails,” 
and enjoyed them, too. 

It was not a very substantial dinner, perhaps, 
and it took a long time to get a very little food ; 
but why not? There was plenty of time, — 


194 


MARIGOLD 


more than plenty, — and sitting there cosily be- 
fore the warm little blaze, coaxing the tiny savory 
morsels from the pretty shells, was as good a way 
of spending it as could have been devised. 

“ This is rather jolly after all, don’t you 
think ? ” remarked Rod, dreamily ; and Mari- 
gold answered with a sort of surprise, Why, yes, 
we are having a lovely time, aren’t we ^ ” 


CHAPTER XV. 


But when the pail was empty and there was 
nothing more to do to amuse themselves, Rodney 
began to watch the slowly falling tide, and to look 
at his watch pretty often. 

The tide had turned, — the wind had changed, 

— the fog was breaking up and drifting back to 
sea. But soon the time would come when they 
must begin their difficult journey homeward, — 
for it was not long to sunset. Was the fog going 
fast enough ? Would it be clear before dark ? 

If Marigold shared his thoughts she gave no 
sign of it. She fed the fire from her thrifty little 
woodpile, and watched the fiames in apparent 
content ; but I suspect her quick little side glances 
at the water from time to time meant something, 

— only she was determined not to worry Rod any 

195 


196 


MARIGOLD 


more than need be. What good would it do to 
talk about it? 

At last he shut his watch with a snap of deci- 
sion. “Well, we might as well start now as any 
time,'* he said, with careful carelessness ; and 
Marigold, with a cheerful “All right! ” jumped 
up quickly and began to fold the gray shawl, while 
he grimly devoted himself to the ordeal of getting 
on his shoe. 

If climbing to the Bower had been difficult, 
getting down again was not much easier ; and the 
distance between the Castle and the foot of the 
shore-path, over the rough ledges and boulders 
and slippery rockweed, was slow and painful to 
the last degree. 

If it had been an actual sprain. Rod probably 
could not have managed it at all. Even as it was, 
and though the afternoon's rest had helped the 
twisted ankle a good deal, the little journey de- 
manded more fortitude than anything he had ever 
done before in his life ; but at last, with Mari- 


MARIGOLD 


197 


gold’s solicitous help, and with many stops for 
rest, it was accomplished, and before the crimson 
sun sank into the pine woods, the little pair of 
adventurers were sitting, very tired and discour- 
aged, on the stile which led from the cliff-pastures 
into the old road to the village. 

It was a route quite unused since the new road 
and bridge were built, save by strolling “ summer 
folks,” so they had no hope of rescue here. But 
suddenly, while they debated whether Marigold 
should leave him and hurry down to the nearest 
houses of the Cove for help, a huge shape clad in 
yellow oilskins bore down on them, and a friendly 
hail reached their ears above all the noise of wind 
and surf. 

As he came nearer Marigold recognized Amos 
Starrett, Jennie’s father. 

“ Oh, Mr. Starrett ! ” she shrieked, almost hys- 
terical with the sudden relief, and rushed to meet 
him. “ Were you coming for us ? How did 
you know ^ ” 


198 


MARIGOLD 


“ Haow’d I know ? ’’ Amos Starrett repeated, 
with genial sarcasm. “ Well, I guess you'll find 
it's piitty gen'rally known. We got ha'f the men 
in the Cove out looking for you two young ones 
— 'nd a little more 'n' we'd 'v' had out the other 
ha'f. Your folks are abaout wild." 

“Oh!" faltered Marigold in distress, — 
“ mamma — " 

“ No, yer mother ain't home," Mr. Starrett 
explained, and she gave a sigh of relief. “ But 
Andrews, he come down t' my place, abaout time 
the fog come in, and he was some worked up. 
He — Hello, young feller," he broke off, as 
they reached Rodney on the stile, “ what's the 
matter with you ? You look kind of slim." 

It did not take long to tell ; and Mr. Starrett's 
measures were as quickly taken. Before Rod 
could protest he found himself picked up and 
carried like a child along a rough path across lots 
in the direction of George Bourne's barn, — “ the 
handiest place to get a team," their rescuer ex- 


MARIGOLD 


199 


plained. “No, you can't walk, neither, — and 
you ain't goin' to ! 'Twould take you all night ! " 

Safe in George Bourne's democrat, and on 
the way home. Marigold began to ask again why 
Mr. Starrett had gone out to the Head to find 
them ; and it then appeared that they owed his 
timely and sorely needed help to Jennie, Mari- 
gold's admiring friend. 

From the distant road she had seen Marigold 
running along the shore-path ; had followed her 
to Ship Head, and watched her out on the rocks 
for some time; too bashful to join her, but satis- 
fied to see her in the distance. 

Then Jennie had gone on her way to make a 
visit to a friend ; but when she returned home in 
the late afternoon and heard the news which 
filled the Cove village, that two of the Merington 
children were missing, she at once put the 
searchers on the right track. 

H er father seemed to understand her feeling 
for Marigold, in his rough way. “ She's some 


200 


MARIGOLD 


crazy over your sister/’ he said, addressing Rod. 
“ She’s followed her ’round this summer more’n 
a little. Lucky for you she did, this time, too. 
Hadn’t have been for her, you’d have stood a 
chance of being late to supper, I guess.” 

‘‘ I’d have been sitting right there on that stile 
till now ! ” Rod assented, gratefully, and then he 
leaned over closer to Marigold and added, under 
his breath, “ So this is your doing, too. Washing 
other people’s dishes pays, after all ! ” 

Well, not the washing dishes alone. Rod ; it 
was just being Marigold that paid^ 

And Marigold laughed at him with a happy 
glow at her heart. That Jennie should care for 
her like that, and that Rod should praise her for 
it, would have made up for all the troubles and 
terrors of the day, even if they had not already 
been turned into pleasures by the new and beauti- 
ful ‘‘ chum ’’-ship with Rodney himself. 

Home at last ! Kissed and shaken, and laughed 
and cried over, by the distracted household, and 


MARIGOLD 


201 


hurried off up-stairs to be brushed and dressed 
and made presentable “ before your mamma gets 
home and sees you so ! 

Fortunately the wanderers had arrived just as 
Andrews was starting to meet the train and bring 
mamma and Mary home; so he need carry no 
bad news to terrify them ; and he gladly agreed 
to say nothing and let Rodney and Marigold tell 
their own story in their own way. 

Of course it had to be told ; but coming from 
their own lips, to prove they were not lost or 
drowned, it was not half so alarming. 

Still it was a sorry tale to tell, and mamma 
was so distressed and agitated by it that the two 
culprits felt more deeply ashamed of their per- 
formance, and of the faults of temper and heedless- 
ness which had led to it, than if she had scolded 
them. 

Indeed, it was not necessary to blame them, for 
they both blamed themselves freely enough ; and 
the uncomfortable consciousness of having shown 


202 


MARIGOLD 


themselves unfit to be trusted remained with both 
for a long time, making them unusually careful. 

Especially Rod. The events of that troublous 
day had made an impression on his mind that 
was not likely to be soon effaced. 

At first his strongest feeling was one of sick 
distaste for water and boats and all that belonged 
to them. During those first restless, wakeful 
nights, when the pain of his wrenched ankle kept 
him from sleeping, he could think of little else 
than that terrible picture, framed in the cloud of 
fog, of the white-winged boat driving, helpless as 
a storm-beaten bird, straight on the rocks — and 
death ! 

It haunted him, even after his anxious inquiries 
had brought from the hotel the welcome news 
that the Siren and her crew had returned to har- 
bor in the early morning — safe, but very hungry, 
very tired and wet, and very much disgusted with 
yachting as a sport. 

They had seen Rod, though without recogniz- 


MARIGOLD 


203 


ing him, and had understood his signals ; but 
were too confused and demoralized to work the 
boat, and retrace their course to safety. They 
could only drop the anchor (by pure “ fools* 
luck,** as he had said, in a safe spot) and stay 
where they were until daylight and clear weather. 

So Rodney*s resolve to sail no more in the 
Siren was not all penitence. And in any case it 
was hardly needed, for Renshaw also had had 
enough of that form of recreation, and soon after 
sent the yacht away. 

And more than this the persistent vision did for 
Rod. It forced on him the painful necessity of 
owning that not only his conduct, but his supe- 
rior masculine judgment, had been wrong ; for the 
sudden, awful danger into which the boat had run 
so unexpectedly proved beyond denial that Aunt 
May's “ nervousness ** and “ prejudice ** were not 
so unreasonable as he had deemed them. 

To be sure, exactly that thing might not have 
happened — probably would not — had he been 


204 


MARIGOLD 


on board ; but it illustrated what an incalculable 
sport sailing is, for novices, and how risks may 
arise when least foreseen. 

It completed the lesson — and Rod's humility. 
He had no defence left to soften his fall. 

He wondered much that his aunt had said 
nothing to him on the subject. He had fully 
expected, after his confession, to be forbidden 
even so much as a punt for the rest of the sum- 
mer, and was prepared to submit manfully to the 
just penalty. But it was several days before he 
heard anything more about it. 

Meanwhile Mamma Merington had considered 
the question carefully, trying to be both wise and 
just Her first impulse naturally was to exact 
strict promises from both the children ; but real- 
izing that her own dread of the water was largely 
“ nervous ” and to a certain extent ‘‘ unreason- 
able,” and being very anxious not to be unfair to 
Rodney, she decided to leave the whole matter 
to Papa Merington’s calmer judgment For a 


MARIGOLD 205 

few days at least, until he could walk without the 
help of a stick, there was little danger of Rod’s 
getting himself drowned. 

Accordingly, the next time his Uncle Robert 
paid them a flying visit there were confabulations ; 
and Rodney’s interview with his uncle left him 
feeling somewhat humiliated. His pride had been 
deeply hurt by reflections on his trustworthiness, 
— but he knew they were richly deserved. 

And to his surprise he found himself almost as 
much the master of his own actions as before ; 
for the two wise people in whose charge he was 
were satisfied that there was no danger of his 
again abusing their faith in him, — he had learned 
his lesson thoroughly well, — and they preferred 
to leave him upon his own honor. 

For a few days, while he was still tied to the 
house, or to easy level ground, by his bandaged 
foot, Rodney was really alarmingly good — he 
was almost angelic. 

The little girls hovered about him, full of sym- 


2o6 


MARIGOLD 


pathy and solicitude, and used all their bright wits 
in devices for his comfort and amusement. They 
would have spent their whole time in ministering 
to him if he had not fairly driven them away 
sometimes, by pretending to wish to read or 
sleep. Then they would go cheerfully off to 
their own neglected pursuits — none of which, 
however, were so absorbing just then as their fre- 
quent conferences upon the pleasant topic of 
how lovely Rod was now, and how glad they 
were that Mary had been wrong about boys ! 

Rodney’s reflections were not quite so agreeable. 
It is true he was pleased and touched to see how 
happy the children were in having him all to 
themselves, but the thought always brought with 
it a twinge of remorse for his previous neglect of 
them. They were a good deal younger, of course, 
— and they were girls, — but still, as their guest, 
he owed them more attention than he had given. 

Mamma Merington’s unwearying sweetness and 
kindness, too, added to his self-reproach. Rod- 



LET THEM PET AND SPOIL HIM TO THEIR HEARTS 

CONTENT.” 



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, . . . , ^ ^ *? . (U» •’, <55 

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MARIGOLD 207 

ney came to the deliberate conclusion that he 
had not been a very satisfactory guest, and he 
resolved to find some way to “ make it up ’* to 
them all before the summer was over. 

At present his only means of giving them pleas- 
ure seemed to be to accept their kindness, and to 
let them pet and spoil him to their hearts' content. 

One morning, when they had picked up and 
restored all the pillows, which would tumble out 
of the hammock just beyond his reach, and 
hunted up the magazine he wanted, and put the 
hand-bell and the lemonade close to his hand, and 
then had vanished, waving gay farewells, down 
over the cliff to the beach. Rod lay for some time 
in the pleasant stillness of the deep, cool, breeze- 
swept veranda, turning these thoughts over once 
more in his mind. 

They still hurt a little, and when Aunt May 
came out to bring him a couple of letters he 
welcomed the diversion. 

The letter from his father came first. It was 


208 


MARIGOLD 


brief and hasty, as his letters usually were, and 
merely said he had talked with the boys’ 
fathers, and had no objections to their plan if Rod- 
ney liked to go.” 

Puzzled and eager. Rod tore open the second 
envelope. Ah, here was the answer to the puz- 
zle — he caught his breath with delight. 

Four of them — all fellows he knew and liked 
— Lake George for two weeks ! W ould he like 
to go ? Well, rather ! 

His ankle was improving so fast that in a week 
more it would be all right, so there would be 
nothing to prevent — 

Rod stopped short ! 

He had sprung upright in the hammock 
(losing out the blue pillow as he did so), to 
shout to Aunt May ; but at that sudden second 
thought the eager look vanished from his face, 
as though a cloud had passed over the sun, and 
he laid himself down again very quietly and shut 
his eyes, to do some thinking. 


MARIGOLD 


209 


Wasn’t this just what he had been wishing 
for, — a chance to ‘‘make it up” to Mary and 
Marigold ? 

How would he be making it up, if, the moment 
he got well enough to pay them back for their 
affectionate care of him, he were to rush off on 
this camping trip and leave them by themselves? 
A pretty way of making up, — first neglect and 
snub ’em, then go off and leave ’em just when 
they were expecting to have some fun ! No, sir ! 

Hadn’t he wished that his uncle and aunt had 
forbidden him something or other, by way of 
penalty for his badness? Well, why not punish 
himself, right now, by giving up this jolly lark ? 
Then, perhaps, he wouldn’t feel so mean about 
those other larks he had had. 

The sober look settled into one of steady 
resolution, and when he opened his eyes his face 
was bright again. 

He would write at once to the boys, and 
get Andrews to take the letter over to the vil- 


210 


MARIGOLD 


lage, quick, before the girls came in, and before 
he had time to change his mind. 

He sprang up in haste, paying little heed to 
the still weak ankle ; and when his aunt came 
out a little later with a plate of fruit for the 
invalid, she found all of the pillows on the floor, 
and no trace of the invalid to be seen. 


CHAPTER XVI. 


Rodney was very rnuch in earnest about his 
little sacrifice. 

He carried it through, and gave up the camp- 
ing trip, in spite of his friends' protests and 
urging; and he did it in the best way, too, — 
bravely and cheerfully, and without talking about 
it. Mary and Marigold did not know — in fact 
they do not know yet — that such an invitation 
had ever come. 

He devoted himself to his secret plan of rep- 
aration, of “ giving the girls a good time," with 
the interest and enthusiasm he usually put into 
his pursuits, making a real art of it. And after 
all he did not regret the lost lark as much as 
he had supposed. Mary and Marigold might 
be only eleven, — and girls at that, — but they 

2II 


212 


MARIGOLD 


were extremely lively little persons, and they 
kept him surprisingly busy. His plan suc- 
ceeded beautifully. The little girls were perfectly 
happy, and responded so joyfully to his efforts 
that what was left of the summer flew by on 
rainbow wings, for all of them. 

It was only a pity there was not more of it; 
and yet, measured according to Mary’s philos- 
ophy, the time was long. 

‘‘ A splendid day like this,” she said, “ makes 
three days in all. First you plan it, — and then 
you do it, — and then you have it to think about.” 

I do not mean to say that Rodney devoted 
every minute of his time to their service. He 
wasn’t really an angel yet, — he was just a 
‘‘glorious human boy.” 

He went off with the “ other fellows ” some- 
times, and sometimes he brought them to the 
house ; but they were not necessary to his 
existence all the time now, — he had found too 
many other ways of having fun. 


MARIGOLD 


213 


And even when he was out in the free boy- 
world, he did not quite forget his girl comrades 
at home. 

From one of these expeditions he brought 
home the very biggest sea-urchin they had ever 
seen, and presented it to Marigold, who received 
it with rapture. 

How perfectly lovely ! Thank you ever so 
much. Rod ! This will be just the thing for 
Katie — Katie Donovan, she’s the little one. I 
have something special for all the others, and I 
couldn’t seem to find anything just right for 
Katie.” 

Strange to say. Rod was not pleased by this 
unselfish delight of hers. 

The urchin really was an uncommon prize ; he 
had risked a ducking to secure it, — and he had 
not done it for Katie Donovan. 

Perhaps the discomfiture was good for him, 
though. Without an occasional unconscious 
snub of this sort he might have got too com- 


214 


MARIGOLD 


placent at the success of his making it up to 
them.” Too much admiration and attention are 
not wholesome for any one ; and Rod was just a 
trifle inclined to be lordly. 

The Bounding Billow was one of Rod’s favor- 
ite amusements at this time. 

Hearing that one of the Bourne boys was 
going off to Gloucester, he applied dutifully for 
his Aunt May’s consent to hire his punt and 
bring it around to the bath-house pier on the 
little Half Moon Beach. And there, when it 
had been scrubbed and painted and purified of 
its fishiness, it made a delightful adjunct to the 
morning baths. 

Under Rod’s tutorship and Andrews’s faithful 
guard the children learned to handle it, and soon 
could row or scull about the safe little shut-in bay 
almost as well as Rod himself. 

They usually wore their bathing-suits on these 
excursions, and were out of the boat almost as 
much as in it ; and they even invented a “ cap- 


MARIGOLD 215 

size drill,” which frightened mamma dreadfully 
when she first saw it. But after getting a little 
used to it she heartily approved. 

The only trouble about it was that the Bound- 
ing Billow was modelled too closely on the lines 
of a tea-tray to be coaxed into tipping over with- 
out the most prodigious effort and ingenuity. 

Next, after reading some Florida story, Rod- 
ney was seized with the idea of making a water- 
telescope, and spent several days working hard 
over it, with Mary 'n’ Mary's eager but bother- 
some assistance. 

First he fashioned a deep, narrow box, some 
two feet high, of which the bottom was a sheet 
of thick glass. He puttied and calked the cracks 
until it was water-tight, and then fastened it on 
one end of the punt, in such a position as to 
bring the glass just below the surface of the 
water. The effect was magical, — to lean over 
the box and look down while the boat moved 
slowly and smoothly along was like being a real 


2i6 


MARIGOLD 


mermaid and floating through the wonder-world 
down there below. The waving kelp and glass- 
like jellyfish and all the familiar things looked 
strange and lovely in the still, cold light. There 
were little fish darting about the rocks, and 
sleepy flounders creeping over the sand. Why, 
once Marigold even saw a sculpin ! That w^jluck. 

One morning the girls were dressing for their 
bath, while Rodney waited for them in the punt, 
and mamma was comfortably established on the 
bench on the shady side of the house, to keep 
them company. 

She sat watching the sturdy young boatman as 
he fussed over a shaky thole-pin ; and when he 
looked up at her with his sudden bright smile of 
good-fellowship she smiled back at him and spoke 
her thought. 

“ How brown you are. Rod ! You would not 
have got such a splendid coat of tan in Devon- 
shire. Are you quite sure, dear, you have not 
been sorry you stayed with us instead ? ” 


MARIGOLD 


217 


“ Not for a minute, Aunt May ! ’’ he declared, 
emphatically. “ IVe had ten times the fun 
here.” And then as he looked up at her from 
the boat, a sudden impulse of gratitude and affec- 
tion came over him, and almost before he knew 
it he had told her all about that camping trip to 
Lake George, which he had meant never to let 
any one know. 

It was worth while telling, after all, just to 
see the look on Aunt May’s face as she said : 
“ You blessed boy ! And aren’t you sorry for 
that^ either ? ” 

He vowed he was not; and then he begged 
her not to tell the girls, — he didn’t want 
any fuss. And she understood at once, in her 
comfortable way, and promised to keep his 
secret. 

“ And now. Rod, I am going to make a con- 
fession, in return for yours,” she said ; and she 
laughed and looked at him roguishly. (Aunt 
May was so pretty ! ) She glanced over her 


2i8 


MARIGOLD 


shoulder at the bath-house, and lowered her 
voice mysteriously. 

“ I have been thinking — and I have decided 
that I am a goose to be so nervous about the 
water, and I must get over it ! So if any one 
should invite me to go out — on a very still day, 
when the water is very smooth — I mean to 
accept the invitation.’’ 

The invitation was not long in coming, — it 
came with a rush that nearly upset her as Rod 
swarmed up on to the platform. 

A few minutes later, when Mary and Marigold 
ran out, ready for their bath, they stopped short 
and stared out at the boat as astonished as though 
the “ real mermaid ” of their favorite “ s’posing ” 
had risen to take passage in the Bounding Billow^ 
instead of the lovely lady in the white gown 
whom they had carefully settled with book and 
cushions and umbrella, ten minutes ago. 

Of course they must needs “ go too ” — they 
were not to be left out of anything that mamma 


MARIGOLD 


219 


was in ! The Bounding Billow put back to port 
for two more passengers, and the bath was quite 
forgotten. 

They took her all around the bay, to all their 
haunts, showed her the cave and the Castle, and 
all the wonders of the water-telescope ; and if 
mamma did not find the excursion so perfectly 
delightful as they did, nobody could have sus- 
pected it. There are several different ways of 
being brave — and one of them is to laugh and 
look pleased and pretty while your heart is in 
your mouth. 

But after that first morning the children all 
begged for her company so often (for no pleasure 
was quite perfect in which mamma did not share) 
that she had plenty of opportunities to get used 
to the water ; and at last she wrote Papa Mering- 
ton she believed she had really conquered her 
nerves and learned to enjoy it — when the water 
was perfectly smooth. 

So the happy days flew past — singly and in 


2 20 


MARIGOLD 


flocks of seven — and soon the last great event 
of the summer was close at hand. A double 
event it was, — the birthday, and the going 
home. 

No extra birthday had been added to the fam- 
ily by Marigold's coming; for as hers was really 
only a few weeks later than Mary’s, the children’s 
determination to be really-truly twins held good 
here also, and they shared their birthday as they 
did everything else they possessed. 

There would be no party this year, but papa 
was coming down to help them celebrate, and 
then right afterward to take them back to South 
Berket, where all the improvements and additions 
were awaiting mamma’s inspection. 

He came the night before the birthday, and 
coming by a different route he arrived an hour 
earlier than he was expected, and walked out 
through the dark drawing-room window into 
the moonlit veranda fronting the sea, into the 
midst of a surprised and happy family. 


MARIGOLD 


221 


When the tumult of welcome subsided a little, 
and he could make himself heard, he was found 
to be in the middle of a sentence — “ so as I 
couldn't stay to go up with you myself, I have 
brought a deputy." 

“ What does deputy mean ? " asked Marigold, 
always alert for new information ; but for once the 
gray eyes had been quicker than the brown eyes, 
and “ Deputy means Dick ! " cried Mary joyfully, 
as she dived into the dark window and pulled 
out a second visitor from the shadow of the 
curtains. 

Dick Saunders surely had no reason to 
doubt the warmth of his welcome ! It was 
like coming home, to the lonely young fellow, — 
and it was some minutes more before papa 
got a chance to finish his interrupted explana- 
tion. 

It then appeared that another of his flying 
trips to New York had become necessary, and 
that he could be with them only for the 


222 


MARIGOLD 


birthday, — so Dick was to remain in his stead, 
to escort them back to Berket. 

The news was bitter-sweet, and the children 
hardly knew whether they were more sorry to 
lose papa or glad to have “their soldier’' take 
them home. 

But at any rate, and for both these reasons, 
they must make the most of the birthday, — and 
they did ! They packed more different kinds of 
good times into that one day than you would 
have supposed one day would hold ; and when at 
nightfall papa left them, he declared that he must 
go away to some nice, quiet place, like New York, 
to rest! 

Both the twins had plenty of pretty gifts, of 
course, from every one in the house ; but the one 
which surprised and pleased Marigold most of 
all was her present from Rodney — the pret- 
tiest little pair of slippers that ever were, with 
big shining silver buckles atop. 

Into the toe of one was tucked a slip of paper 


MARIGOLD 


223 


with nothing on it but a date, — the date of 
that day in June when Marigold had spoiled her 
shoes in “ catching the painter,'’ — the first day 
when they had begun to be real chums. 


CHAPTER XVII. 


At the end of the festival day, when papa had 
gone, and every one was a little tired and quiet. 
Rod, sitting alone on the steps, saw a girPs figure 
coming up the drive. 

It was a good while since he had seen Jennie 
Starrett, and at first he did not recognize her. 
This was not the boisterous, slatternly girl he 
had seen playing about thg boats with the Cove 
boys ; it was a neatly dressed and womanly little 
person who carried herself very straight, and 
looked somewhat as Mary Murray had looked 
a year ago. 

There was a good reason for the resemblance. 
Jennie StarretPs highest ideal and ambition was 
to look like Marigold — to walk as she did, to 
speak like her. Such enthusiastic and admir- 

224 


MARIGOLD 225 

ing imitation could not fail to show visible 
results. 

Jennie looked a little disconcerted when she 
saw Rod on the steps. She did not feel ac- 
quainted with “ the boy at the Meringtons*/’ and 
was rather shy of him. 

She would have retreated when she found that 
the girls were not about ; but Rod saw her disap- 
pointment in her face and made her sit down 
on the steps to wait, assuring her that the others 
would be back in a few minutes. 

At first they were both a trifle stiff, till, by 
way of making conversation, Jennie announced, 
abruptly : ‘‘ I got something for Marigold,’* and, 
on being politely urged to show it, fumbled in her 
pocket and dragged out her moist and sprangling 
offering — a six-rayed starfish. 

She likes ’em, you know,” she explained. 
‘‘ She puts all the queer things she can get in a 
box to carry home ; so I give her all I find.” 

As she spoke of Marigold, Jennie’s rather dull 


226 


MARIGOLD 


face brightened so that Marigold’s own bright 
spirit seemed to be reflected in it. It was easy 
to see what subject would put her at her ease, 
and Rod began to talk about Marigold. 

He was right: Jennie forgot her shyness and 
was ready and willing to talk. She grew eager 
and confidential, and in the ten minutes that 
passed before Mary and Marigold appeared Rod- 
ney obtained an insight into not only Jennie’s 
feeling but also some points of Marigold’s char- 
acter, which surprised him. 

He had known, and even joked, about Jennie’s 
admiration, but he had not known what its in- 
fluence on Jennie herself had been. But he now 
began to see that the change (almost a trans- 
formation) in the girl — in her appearance and 
manners, and even speech — had begun on that 
morning when he had lain in the sun up on 
the shore-path wondering impatiently what Mari- 
gold was up to, staying so long at the Cove. 

“ I never saw anybody like her before — 


MARIGOLD 


227 


never ! ” Jennie said, with a quiver in her earnest 
voice. “ She*s so sort of friendly, and — and 
folksy, for all she*s so handsome and smart. Fd 
give anything to be like Marigold ! 

“ I never saw any summer-folks before that 
I cared anything about; but since that day she 
played keep house with us, Beulah and me we 
just pretend she’s there, and do the dishes the 
way she did. You ought to see how we keep 
that table washed — and Beulah gets mad if I 
take her turn. It is lot’s nicer, just as Marigold 
said, to have things decent. Last time she was 
to our house — ” 

“When was that?” asked Rod, deeply inter- 
ested. 

“ One day last week. She’s been lots of times, 
but that time we played was the longest time she 
ever stayed. But you know she’s awful fond of 
babies, and ” — 

“ Yes, I know ! ” Rod murmured. 

And he had supposed he knew all about 


228 


MARIGOLD 


Marigold ! Rod whistled under his breath ; and 
for a minute he lost the thread of Jennie’s story. 

Steady as well as impulsive — faithful as well 
as generous. Well, wasn’t she just the right 
kind of girl, all round ? 

He remembered her wistful face when she 
asked him, “ Don’t you think they might keep 
it up, if they found it was fun ? ” and he realized 
now that there had been intention and resolution 
in it, besides the wistfulness. Her impulse of 
helpfulness had been sudden, but it was not 
merely the morning’s whim. 

Well, you never do know all about girls, that’s 
a fact. 

He wondered a little that she had said noth- 
ing about this little missionary work of hers. 
It didn’t seem like Marigold to be reserved. 
But that was a little mistake on his part, — Mari- 
gold had not been reserved; mamma and Mary 
knew all about the Starretts. It was only he that 
had taken no interest, and so paid no attention. 


MARIGOLD 


229 

At last he woke up to attend to what Jennie 
was saying ; and for the few more minutes they 
were alone he did his best to entertain her. It 
was not difficult now. 

Then there came a sudden race of light little 
feet along the veranda, and his responsibility 
was ended. Mary and Marigold had come. 

That night they sat again on the seaward 
veranda, facing the moonlit sea. It seemed a 
little lonesome without papa, after so short a 
visit ; but it was so nice to have Dick ! 

Rod sat balancing himself on the balustrade, 
and contemplating the group in the big splint 
rocking-chair opposite. 

Mary *n Mary were perched one on either 
arm of the chair, each with an arm around Dick’s 
neck, to keep her balance, both talking fast, and 
usually together, across him ; while Dick, be- 
tween the long black curls and the tumbled mop 
of brown, was in almost total eclipse, and had 
little to say beyond laughing at them both. 


230 


MARIGOLD 


It was the same sort of thing that had irritated 
Rodney on Dick's previous visit, — the eager 
chattering and flutter of demonstrative aflFection, 
and “fuss about nothing " generally, — but this 
time it did not seem to annoy him. 

There was no room for jealousy now, — he 
was not left out. His plans and interests and 
pleasures were the same as theirs, and when he 
chose to take part, there was plenty of room for 
him in the conversation, if not in the rocking- 
chair. 

Best of all. Rod was not only on good terms 
now with all the others but with himself as well. 
That made all the difference. 

On his side, Dick, quietly “ sizing up " Rod 
for the second time, was reaching quite a differ- 
ent conclusion from his former one, and not 
knowing what a real difference there was in Rod, 
was inclined to blame his own first judgment as 
too severe. 

“ Must have been something wrong that other 


MARIGOLD 


231 


time, he thought, observing the unconscious 
Rod from behind his screen of curls. “ He 
seems a nice enough sort of youngster, after all.” 
And his manner to Rod, as they talked, had a 
pleasant, man-to-man equality and friendliness 
in it that won the younger boy’s heart for good 
and all. 

Next day there was an end to play and leisure, 
for the packing began, and everybody was in a 
whirl of busyness. 

Mamma, with her corps of skilful and willing 
assistants, dismantled the house, and oversaw 
the packing. Dick, quick to see and eager to 
help, lent a hand wherever needed ; while the 
children, wild with the bustle and excitement, 
helped and hindered in about equal degrees. 

When on the last afternoon they thoughtfully 
asked if they could be spared to take a last walk 
around the shore-path, mamma consented with 
suspicious alacrity, and assured them that she 
could get along for an hour perfectly well ! 


232 


MARIGOLD 


It was a pilgrimage to all their favorite 
places. Last of all the little girls said good-by 
to the Anemone Pool, while Rodney climbed to 
his eyrie on the cliff. 

It was then he discovered the lost story-book, 
and climbed down the precipice to recover it 
with an amount of difficulty and hazard which 
amazed him, remembering his headlong descent 
on the day when the fog came in ! 

He smoothed out the crumpled leaves as well 
as he could, and carried it home. The little 
girls were interested and inquisitive, but they 
could get very little satisfaction out of him. 

How did it come there? He dropped it. 
When ? Last summer, sometime. What good 
was it now ? What did he want to keep it for ? 
Oh, he thought it might be useful to look at, 
once in awhile, — help him to remember some- 
thing. Remember what? Never you mind. 

So they gave it up, told him cheerfully that 
he was horrid, raced him to the gate-post, and 


MARIGOLD 


233 


lost by only a yard, and trooped in, breathless 
but affable, to tell mamma they were so sorry 
they had been gone so long, and now they would 
help her “ like anything.” 

And so they did. 

On the long day’s journey home to Berket it 
was nicer still to have Dick there. 

He saw to tickets and trunk-checks, took 
charge of hand luggage and “ counted noses ” at 
all the changes, and when the little folk grew 
tired of all other amusements he told them 
stories, and kept them so happily interested they 
quite forgot where they were, and came back 
to their surroundings with astonishment when 
‘‘ Berket ” was shouted, and it was time to put 
on hats and coats, and gather up bags and 
umbrellas, ready for arrival. 

“ What a comfort it is,” said mamma, smiling 
at Dick, “ to travel with a military escort. 
Thanks to ‘ our soldier ’ the journey has posi- 


234 


MARIGOLD 


tively rested, instead of tiring us all out, as I 
expected/' 

Wasn't that reward enough to Dick, for hav- 
ing a good time himself? 

They reached home only in time to go to 
bed, and in the morning there were so many 
things to see and to do that Marigold's impa- 
tience to visit her old home in McGowan's 
Lane was fairly forgotten in the confusion of 
interests. 

First and foremost, there were the alterations 
to inspect, and the workmen to watch. Is there 
anything so fascinating as to watch a carpenter 
at work, — especially when it is your own house, 
yes, your own little room, that is being so mag- 
ically transformed ? 

It was so absorbing that unpacking and get- 
ting settled were very uninteresting details in 
comparison, and that first morning the twins 
neither helped nor bothered to any great extent. 

In fact, they could not “get settled," very 


MARIGOLD 


235 


well, for Mary's own little blue chamber was one 
of the places that had been torn out and ripped 
to pieces, in order to remodel it into a lovely, 
long, double “ twin-room " for Mary ’n’ Mary, 
where the two little white beds should stand side 
by side in the middle, while at either end the 
little girls would have, practically, each her own 
room. 

There were spaces carefully planned for two 
little bureaus, two little desks (their Christmas 
present from papa), and for the flowers and 
all the hundred little things girls like to have 
in their room, and it opened, as before, into 
mamma's dressing-room, so they would not miss 
the little mother-flittings in the night, which are 
like the visits of the guardian angels, and which 
we never outgrow, though sometimes we lose 
them by and by. 

All this was so extremely interesting that the 
new guest-rooms and staircases and bathrooms 
which also claimed the attention of mamma and 


236 


MARIGOLD 


the architect and carpenters, seemed matters of 
far less importance to Mary and Marigold. 

They hovered about the workmen all the 
morning, and it was not until after luncheon that 
the “ treasures ” got themselves unpacked, and 
the enthusiasm for their bestowal filled Marigold's 
mind again. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


She started off with the precious basket on her 
arm ; and as she turned to wave good-bys to 
mamma and Mary she already began to feel like 
Mary Murray, it was so like old times. 

The same old roadside path to the bossy’s tree, 
which her little bare feet had followed so often 
— the stony, deep-rutted lane, down past Mr. 
McGowan’s barns and sheds, — why, surely she 
was Mary Murray, and this wonderful year — 
the winter in the city, and the glorious seashore 
summer — was just one of the magnificent s’pos- 
ings, in which, all her life, she had been wont to 
lose herself 

However, there was one change, — no little 
Mike stood waiting under the bossy’s tree, to 
shake his head and wag his tail with joy at her 


238 


MARIGOLD 


approach. Marigold looked at the tree half- 
sadly, and began to realize that a year is a very 
long time. 

Nothing about the Murray house was altered. 
She lifted the sagging gate as of old, and dragged 
it open, scraping in the gravel. It was not often 
that the gate was closed ; and Marigold reflected 
as she pulled that probably the Readys’ pig was 
getting loose again. 

She tiptoed under the parlor window, recon- 
noitred from the corner, and made a dash for the 
kitchen door. 

Her long-planned surprise was a complete suc- 
cess ! 

At her sudden — not to say tumultuous — en- 
trance, Mrs. Murray, who stood at the table iron- 
ing, turned with such a jump that her iron slid 
off its plate to the floor with a thump which 
jarred the house, and made a noble addition to 
the confusion of her welcome. 

Two of the boys were there, besides Baby Joe, 


MARIGOLD 


239 


in his high chair, and they all were quite as as- 
tonished to see her as Marigold could possibly 
have hoped. 

Mrs. Murray returned her hug and kiss with 
motherly warmth, and then held her ofF and 
looked at her in affectionate admiration. “ Well, 
you’re getting to be a great girl, aren’t you 
now ? ” she said, proudly ; and the boys stared 
at her with wide eyes and dubious grins. 

There was not much change in Marigold ; her 
pretty clothes were very simple, and the cloud of 
curly bronze-brown hair could not possibly be 
prettier than it had always been ; but she had 
been away so long they had got used to being 
without her, and now the rush of her ardent, 
impetuous spirit was like the sudden breeze that 
sets everything in the room to fluttering. 

She hardly paused to say “ Hello ” to Tim 
and Johnny before she made her eager dash at 
the baby. But little Joe, who had stared like 
the others with open eyes, and mouth too, was 


240 


MARIGOLD 


not prepared for the sudden onset. He first 
curled up like a caterpillar to evade her 
embrace, and when she persisted in hugging him 
he howled outright ! 

Alas and alas ! to Baby Joe Marigold was a 
stranger ! She had been away for nearly half his 
little life : no wonder he cried. 

But it was a shock to her, and a grievous 
disappointment. Of all the household she had 
counted most on Baby Joe, and that he alone 
should turn against her — ! 

But Marigold — or Mary Murray — was 
‘‘ plucky still. She would not have her wel- 
come spoiled like this, and she set herself reso- 
lutely to work to make friends anew. 

It did not take long to coax out a cherub- 
smile on the frowning, distrustful little face. If 
the Starrett baby had found her beguiling, even 
as a stranger, how much more Baby Joe, for 
whom her heart was brimful of love! In a few 
minutes he was gurgling, and showing his little 





“ SHE OPENED HER LITTLE BASKET. 











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MARIGOLD 


241 


teeth, and rumpling her hair with his fat fingers, 
quite as he used to do. 

Then she opened her little basket, packed 
with such happy anticipations ; and there, at least, 
was no disappointment. Marigold’s lively imag- 
ination always stood her in good stead when 
choosing for others. She could feel just what 
each would like to have, — and so every one was 
suited as well as pleased. 

After that pleasant business was finished. Mari- 
gold went out, her basket still half-full, to find 
her old companions, Maggie and Nellie and 
Katie and the rest. 

They were not far to seek, and when the news 
of her return spread through the Lot the children 
gathered like a flock of sparrows. 

They were glad to see her again, — she had 
always been a favorite and leader among them, — 
and they were delighted with the pretty and 
curious things she distributed among them, ac- 
cording to her long-cherished plans. 


242 


MARIGOLD 


But it cannot be denied that they were a little 
awkward and shy of her, even her most familiar 
comrades ; and the younger ones even put their 
fingers in their mouths — quite as if she were a 
Sunday-school teacher calling on mothers, on a 
week-day ! 

It was a compliment — it was even an honor! 
— but it was not comfortable to warm-hearted 
Marigold, who had thought to come right in 
again and be friends, as though there had been 
no break. 

She struggled against the stiffness and tried to 
smother the sense of disappointment in her 
heart ; and really there was no reasonable reason 
for it. The children were as pleased and excited 
by her coming as the little Starretts had been ; 
and as it was, after all, just Mary Murray, and 
not a stranger, their shyness partly wore away as 
they followed her about and listened to her 
stories of the wonderful year. 

They followed her when, last of all, she 


MARIGOLD 243 

went down to the end of the lane to find 
Mike/’ 

The Murrays’ heifer was there, in the pasture 
with Mr. McGowan’s cows. When Johnny and 
Tim had succeeded in separating her from the 
others and driving her up to the bars, the pretty 
young Jersey still took no interest in her visitor 
further than to coolly accept her handfuls of 
clover. When Marigold tried to pull her head 
up to kiss the curlycue in her forehead, she 
shook her head and pulled away, and went on 
feeding. 

It was hard. Marigold had put it off to the 
last from a feeling that it would be so ; and 
when, with a parting pat and a last bunch of 
clover-tops, she turned away, the ache in her 
throat made her feel that it would be well to 
say good-by to her old friends and get home 
to her new ones as soon as possible. 

She ran in to kiss Mother Murray and Joe 
once more, said good-by all around, and hurried 


244 MARIGOLD 

up the lane alone. She would come again soon, 
she promised to their eager urging, but just now 
she only wanted to be ‘‘at home” — and Mc- 
Gowan’s Lane was home no longer. Home was 
where mamma and Mary were ! 

It had been Mary’s doing that Marigold had 
gone alone. Her sensitive feeling had suggested 
that the day belonged to Mary Murray, and she 
should have it all to herself without having to 
think of, or for, a companion who did not quite 
belong in it. 

Mamma agreed with this theory when it was 
whispered in her ear; so Mary remained at 
home. 

She had planned, however, to meet Marigold 
on the way back, impatient of even so short a 
separation from her twin. But someway Mari- 
gold returned a good deal sooner than they had 
expected ; so when she came up the steps she 
found them all together there. 

She gathered up her pluck and put on a brave 


MARIGOLD 


245 


smile to meet them. She described her visit (the 
pleasant parts) and answered all their questions ; 
but as soon as the general attention had turned 
elsewhere she took herself and her empty basket 
quietly out of sight. 

As she went in Dick caught a glimpse of her 
face. It looked a little pale and tired, and 
there was no smile on it now. 

After a minute or so he slipped away and 
followed her. 

He found her on the little balcony at the 
end of the long parlors, standing by the balus- 
trade and grasping it tightly with both her 
hands, while she gazed steadfastly out at the 
golden western sky ; and, bending down to look 
into her face, he saw that her mouth was set 
firmly and her eyes were full. 

Dick's arm went around her quick and close, 
like the good big brother he was. 

“ What's gone wrong, Marigolden ? " he 
asked. “Weren't they glad to see you, down 


246 MARIGOLD 

there at Murray’s ? ” and in his heart Dick was 
wroth with the whole Murray clan. 

But Marigold nodded vigorously, and swal- 
lowed the lump in her throat as quickly as 
she could, still without taking her eyes from 
the sunset clouds, which dazzled and danced 
through the tear-drops. 

“ Oh, yes ! ” she said, slightly unsteadily, after 
a moment. “ They were dear as they could be ; 
but — but it felt so different! Of course I 
knew things would be some different, but I didn’t 
know how it would make me feel. 

“My bossy’s all grown up — she’s nothing 
but a cow now, — and she doesn’t love me any 
more at all! And little Joe — he didn’t know 
me, Dick ! I kissed him and he cried ! ” and 
two big tears dripped off her lashes and splashed 
on the balustrade. 

It was almost an unheard-of thing for Mari- 
gold to cry. Dick had never seen her, and for 
a moment he stared at the sunset himself in 


MARIGOLD 247 

perplexed dismay. Then he drew her a litde 
closer and spoke gendy, in a soothing tone, as 
though to a very little girl. 

“ After all, you know, there aren’t many 
people who have two homes.” He paused a 
moment, and added in a still lower tone : ‘‘ Some 
people don’t have any.” 

It was the right note to strike. She turned 
at once and slipped both arms tightly around his 
neck. “I know, Dick, — I know,” she whis- 
pered. 

Presently he began again. “ A little girl with 
such a home as this — ” but Marigold inter- 
rupted in a much steadier voice than before. 
The two big tears were all she had permitted 
herself. 

‘‘ Oh, yes, Dick, I do love it,” she said, ear- 
nestly. “ I love this home the best, because they 
love me best. But I can’t help loving the old 
one, too, a little, can I ? It was home first, you 
know, though it doesn’t seem so any more.” 


248 


MARIGOLD 


“ Bless your heart, of course you can’t ! ” he 
answered, heartily. “ If you could help it you 
wouldn’t be Marigold. But don’t you fret, 
dear ; it will be all right next time, when they get 
used to you again. And if Mr. Joe doesn’t be- 
have pretty then, we’ll trounce him ! ” at which 
novel method of pacifying a baby Marigold 
laughed, and with a long, deep breath threw off 
her burden of depression. 

Then they went in to dinner — to the warm, 
bright lamps, and the dear home-faces, and the 
happy, pleasant talk. 

Dick watched Marigold as her eyes turned 
from mamma to Mary, and back again to 
mamma, her face growing brighter and braver 
with each minute that passed. 

When she threw back her head and laughed 
at Rod’s teasing, Dick laughed too (as they all 
did) and turned his attention to his dinner. 
Marigold was herself again. 

After such a busy, eventful day the children 


MARIGOLD 


249 


were glad to go to bed a little early, and when 
mamma went up “ to tuck them in,'* Rodney 
and Dick were left alone together. 

After a little casual talk, — “ What was the 
matter with Marigold ? ” Rod asked, suddenly. 

Ohj — so he had noticed, too? 

Then probably mamma had also — that was 
why the “ tucking in ” seemed to be taking so 
long to-night. Mothers always notice. 

Dick mused on this point for a moment, 
with a little smile, before he answered Rod’s 
question. 

Then he explained briefly why the home-com- 
ing had not been all happiness, and how bravely 
the little girl had tried to make the best of it. 

“ She’s such a plucky little thing,” he ended, 
affectionately ; and presently added in the same 
affectionate, musing tone : “ Td like to choke 
that Murray kid ! ” 

Rod chuckled silently, but he answered, 
seriously enough : 


250 


MARIGOLD 


“Yes, Marigold’s clear grit, — and she’s an 
all-round nice girl, too ! She’s bright, and 
quick as lightning, — she isn’t afraid of anything, 

— and she’s the friendliest little soul that ever 
lived. 

“ More’n that, I know two people she’s done a 
lot of good, this summer. She sort of likes 
everybody, you know, and wants to do things 
for ’em — like bringing home all that stuff for 
the children.” And then he told about Jennie 
Starrett and her dishes. 

Dick smiled approvingly. The story sounded 
just like Marigold. “ And who’s the other 
one?” he asked. “You said two.” 

“Well — the other one was me,” Rod ad- 
mitted, rather sheepishly, getting red. “ I got 
myself into a regular fool scrape this summer, 
and it was Marigold that straightened me out. 
Not by doing anything very wonderful, you 
know, but just being the kind of girl she is, 

— being Marigold. She behaved — well, like 


MARIGOLD 


251 


a gentleman. I didn’t/* and he laughed rue- 
fully. 

‘‘ I see,” said Dick, gravely. He respected 
Rodney’s reserve, and asked no more questions, 
but sat silent for awhile, thoughtfully tapping 
the arms of his chair. 

“ I guess,” he said at last, slowly, “ you 
might as well make it three. 1 fancy that 
little pair have done as much for me as any 
one. 

“ I don’t claim to be a reformed character, 
precisely, — I was doing my best before that to 
make a man of myself, — but I don’t know that 
it had ever occurred to me to be a gentleman 
until after one rainy day when I happened to 
meet Mary ’n’ Mary in the woods.” 

“ All right,” assented Rod. “ Count you in, 
makes it three. Three’s the proper number, of 
course.” 

“ There was one other little thing,” Dick went 
on, in a meditative tone, as though half-forget- 


252 


MARIGOLD 


ting he had a listener. I don’t think — I 
have smoked a cigar — since the first day those 
children kissed me.” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” Rod rejoined, in a very careless, 
offhand sort of way ; “ I gave up smoking quite 
awhile ago. No use in it, anyway.” 

Dick did not smile. 

“ Then, counting you, and Jennie, and me,” 
Rod summed up, ‘‘ there are three reformations 
to her credit already. Pretty fair record, I call 
it, for her first year’s work. If she is going to 
keep it up at the same rate. Marigold will be a 
good thing to have in the family 1 ” 


THE END. 


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